Goddesses Save The Queen
by Good Old Hoxton
Summary: After being sent by the government to explore a new land, a group of humans must attempt to stay alive in a land of monsters and goddesses. Amongst these people is a small band of plucky Brits, armed with guns, seemingly endless ammo, knowledge of nearly every obscenity in the English language, and silly accents. How will the CPUs cope? Set during the Anime timeline.
1. Yelling at Armed Women

He could have just denied the request to send him to the new world. Just...signed the paper, and actively told the government to shove its portal up its arse. But, nope, he didn't, and where'd that land him? In the middle of some epic sword fight between four rather attractive ladies, dodging beneath their swings as they had a no holds barred death match, with the purple-haired woman being the one receiving the beatings. Thus, with the only weapons he had being a Skorpion SMG with a second back-up in his satchel, a telescopic baton to stun possible creatures, a Kukri-machete to cut down plant samples from trees, and a Mossberg 500 shotgun with an assortment of shells, he was forced to constantly dive out of the way of incoming swings whilst delivering opportunity shots to any of the women that came a bit to close.

Not the proudest activity Jack had undertaken. He figured it when he shot the green-haired woman at point blank range with a Dragon's Breath shell after she bumped into him (her ample breasts hitting his face first, he might have added). She looked just as surprised as he did, as though she didn't expect to see a total stranger. And it was likely he was just that to anybody he would come across for as long as he was there: There seemed to be absolutely no way back to Earth. So he was stuck avoiding angry women trying to stab each other with almost anime-esque flying and swordplay.

On the plus side, he discovered something interesting: None of his weapons seemed to be depleting their munitions, jamming, or overheating. This came as a pleasant surprise when he held the trigger on his Skorpion for a good thirty seconds in a panic, with the gun showing no signs of running out. Thus, he felt like he stood a slight chance in the event that the girls turned on him. Diving behind a fallen stone pillar on the outskirts of the arena, he noticed something: The area was flying. All around, clouds stretched out for miles and miles, with no ground in sight. So he was either on top of a really tall mountain, or...

Ah, whatever.

He was going to sue the everliving _shit_ out of whoever designed the portal when he got back. They'd be shitting their kids' university funds by the time Jack was through with them. He was told it was an uninhabited terrain, but was given some weapons of his selection "just in case". Plus, they also let him wear whatever the hell he wanted, since apparently they'd checked beforehand if anything nearby was dangerous. That meant Jack put on his usual black Magnum boots, pair of jeans, black shirt, and army green button-up shirt on top, with a satchel containing equipment and first aid, a set of body armour (in the form of forearm ballistic guards, shin ballistic guards, and a lightweight ballistic vest), plus a few bandoliers and holsters by request of the government self-defense trainer he had been working with for a while in preparation.

Seeing no problems with his apparel, they sent him through, but obviously they didn't account for the outlandishly attractive women that were trying to kill the one with purple hair. Jack exhaled, catching his breath again, and went back through his head. What the fuck was he doing there, again? Shit.

...samples.

Collect samples of local flora and fauna.

That was the one.

He just hadn't expected the local fauna to be both sexy, and violent. He couldn't exactly just let them kill each other. What if they turned on him? He could just Dragon's Breath the shit out of them, since the shotgun seemed endless as well, but...that would be cruel.

He shuddered: He knew what fire did to people. He'd seen napalm and white phosphorous wounds, and they were fucking horrible. He'd also seen bullet wounds, and they were almost as bad.

"Ah, shite..." he muttered, the sounds of battle raging behind him. He couldn't let the purple one die. She looked to be on her own. Maybe...if he helped her, she could help him get home? He grinned. Flawless. It would have to work.

Raising his Mossberg again, he swept around the end of the pillar and pointed the dangerous end towards the woman with the white hair and blue eyes. She hadn't noticed him: She was locking blades with the purple haired girl. Thus, Jack had no reason to not shoot her straight in the back with some 00 Buckshot. She let out a cry of surprise and recoiled forwards, allowing the purple-haired woman to force her away with a foot and parry the previously unnoticed green-haired woman's spear. Immediately discarding all questions as to how she was still alive after a shotgun blast, Jack racked the pump of his shotgun, before swinging it round to point at the shorter blue-haired woman with the nearly comically oversized axe. She was holding it ready to swing at him, and he was pointing a shotgun at her face. Standoff-ish.

"Beat it, asshole!" she yelled in an aggressive way. "I don't care who you are or how you got up to Celestia, but this is between goddesses, not humans! Now scram!" Jack blinked. Holy shit, they spoke the Queen's English, and swore at him. That was brilliant. Now he could be a dickhead as well because she started it.

"Fuckin' hell, Lady, you speak English?" he replied in amazement, almost being tempted to lower his gun. The woman looked at him with no less of a sense of rage.

"Course I do! We all do, idiot! Now who the hell are you?"

"Same could be asked of you, shorty." In fairness, he had a point: Jack was five foot ten, and she was a good foot shorter than him, maybe four foot nine. She gritted her teeth.

"What the hell did you just call me?!" she nearly screamed.

"Calm it down, it was just banter," Jack said quickly. He now knew he shouldn't lower his guns. For anything. Ever. "Now tell me who you are!"

"You first." The woman glared back at him, narrowing her vibrant red eyes and tightening the grip on her axe. Jack sighed.

"Fine. My name's Jack London. I was sent here by some scientists through some weird portal or somethin'. I got told to look for plants and wildlife, then take it home for study. Of course, there's no portal back, and the first livin' things I see are trying to murder each other, so you might be better off tellin' me what the fuck is going on." The woman looked like she didn't believe a word of it, with her eyebrow raised. "You don't even fuckin' believe me. Great. Absolute fuckin' quality."

"Well, I gotta believe you," she snapped. "You weren't here when we started, and only we goddesses can get up here. So you're not supposed to be here."

"You're a goddess?" Jack inquired, lowering his gun a bit so that it was at his hip and pointed at her stomach. The woman only slightly lowered her axe. At least it was progressing towards calming her down.

"Goddess White Heart, to be exact," she shot back. She then pointed a clawed finger at the woman with green hair, then the woman with white hair, then the purple-haired victim, all still locked in combat. "Thunder Tits over there is Green Heart. Bleached Bitch is Black Heart, and the last one is Purple Heart. We're all Console Patron Units."

"...CPUs..." Jack murmured. Weird name for gods. "Anyway, as much as I appreciate you presence, would you be able to tell me how I get out of here?" White Heart rested her axe on her shoulder.

"Hell if I know," she shrugged with a nonchalant expression. "You can help me by taking down Purple Heart. If we make it out of this, I can bring you back down to Gamindustri with me. Then, you and I are gonna have a talk." Jack nodded after a moment's consideration. _Better than nothing. Progress, at least._

"I'd appreciate that, cheers," he replied. White Heart gave a nod, before gritting her teeth and flying straight back into the fight, leaving her new 'friend' to watch from a distance. He sighed. "...she's a good start, I guess..." Jack threw the sling of his shotgun over his shoulder, then unholstered his Skorpion, swinging it into a two handed grip. Without delay, he began to unload bursts of shots towards Green Heart...wait, Purple Heart was the white haired one...no, no, wait, should be obvious, it was the purple haired one. Yeah.

But why was he attacking her, besides helping White Heart? Now that he was thinking about it, it made a slight bit of sense. Green Heart, White Heart, and Black Heart were all attacking her. If he helped them defeat her, maybe he'd gain a few allies if the other two were a bit less aggressive than White Heart. He could already tell that his accidental shooting of Green Heart and absolutely 100% unintentional shooting of Black Heart were having effects on them: Green Heart was holding a hand over a patch of reddened skin on her slender torso, whilst Black Heart seemed to be struggling in general.

Thinking of it, Jack wasn't entirely sure they'd like him that much. But...it was a sunny day. Good things happened on sunny days. Except 9/11. That was bad. And, uh, the Blitz...which also sucked. Also Vietnam. That wasn't fun. Jack paused only briefly to unfold the stock on his Skorpion. He _really_ needed to think up better life mottos to replace 'Good things happen on sunny days'.

Though he did get a face full of Green Heart's breasts. That was... an eye-opening, soft, and warm experience. Until he shot her. He still wasn't certain what she'd be more pissed at him over: His itchy trigger finger, or his positioning of his facial structure into her ample bosom.

He decided not to think about it, instead opting to begin advancing towards the battle and firing his weapon at Purple Heart when he had the chance. Black Heart and Green Heart looked at him in surprise, watching him carefully trudging towards Purple Heart with an almost absurdly tiny machine gun pressed in front of his face and a steely expression. Purple Heart didn't seem to notice the bullets very much: Either because they weren't hitting her (which seemed fairly likely when you considered that Jack had only used a Skorpion once or twice during his training), or she was too focused on parrying White Heart's repeated axe swings to care. White steel clashed with a purple light, sparking everywhere as the two women danced back and forth in combat, the occasional bullet from Jack pinging into the fight. However, these shots were doing next to nothing of note: At most, they seemed to make Purple Heart wince a little bit when they hit her in the face. Nothing more. _The adtenaline_ _must be really pumping for her to just ignore bullets,_ Jack thought, folding the Skorpion's stock back up and slipping it into its holster, before letting the Mossberg slide down his right arm and into his waiting hands. But he didn't fire any shots. Black Heart and Green Heart, still observing him in utmost confusion, had many questions swimming around their heads. Green Heart decided to ask the most obvious.

"...who are you?" she asked. Her voice seemed friendly enough. Jack now had even more regrets for shooting her, but the question caught him off guard. He slipped the butt of the shotgun under the crook of his right arm, and scratched the back of his head with his left hand.

"Uh..." he began. "I'm...not from around here, if that helps?" Green Heart raised a brow.

"So I gathered," she said calmly. "Do you have a name?"

"Jack London," he replied flatly, pointing to Green Heart and Black Heart "And you're Green Heart, and you're Black Heart, right?" The two shared a cautious glance, then nodded.

"Indeed," Black Heart spoke up. "How did you end up in Celestia?"

"Like fuck if I know," Jack shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets and letting the Mossberg balance itself to point towards the ground. "I went through a portal back on Earth, now apparently I can't go home, and White Heart over there said if I help you lot get rid of Purple Heart, then she'll help me." There was a pause, filled with the sounds of White Heart's yelling and Purple Heart's rather audible grunts of exertion. "You two don't believe me, do you?"

"I'm afraid not," Green Heart nodded, not changing her expression. It was now that Jack noticed she and Black Heart were hovering a few inches off the ground, making her a bit difficult to focus on. "But I suppose I have no other story to go by. No human can make it up to Celestia alone, and I doubt any of us brought you up here, considering how you barely seem to know who we are." She paused. "You're really believing White Heart?"

"Well, she offered to help, so I said I'd accept the help..." Jack replied, trailing off as he noticed the two goddesses laughing quietly. "What, did I say somethin' bad?" Green Heart tsk'ed and smiled to herself, closing her eyes.

"My, my, you really don't know much about this place, do you?" she chuckled. "White Heart isn't the most..._benevolent_ of us goddesses. And that doesn't include her stature as the least endowed." Green Heart coupled the statement by folding her free arm under her breasts, lifting them up and giving Jack an eyeful. He wasn't entirely sure what he was meant to say, but thankfully he didn't have to compliment her breast size and look awkward: As if the breast related insult had triggered some linchpin, White Heart growled loudly and her frequency of attacks increased.

"Shut your fat hole, Thunder Tits!" she screeched over. "Once I'm done with Neptune, I'm coming over there to kick your ass as well!" Jack smiled beside himself. _Some top-notch banter, gotta admit._

"Well, what do I do instead?" he asked, slipping the gun into his hands once more. "I probably won't survive a fall from here, and I sure as shite can't fly. What's your recommendation?" Green Heart thought for a moment.

"I could bring you down to Leanbox with me, and you could help deal with our monster problem," she suggested. "I'm certain someone with as much firepower as yourself could deal with a few Dogoos without much trouble. Furthermore, I'd be more than happy to host you in a guest room, so long as you pull your weight." She turned to Black Heart. "Unless Black Heart would like for your presence...?"

"So long as he doesn't shoot me in the back again, I'd be fine with hosting him in Lastation," Black Heart said. She was smiling, but undoubtedly, her sudden mention of the shotgun blast would probably mean she was harbouring a hatred for him already. "Besides, my sister has been looking for someone to help her with a few dungeons. Help me deal with monsters, and I'll help you."

"What the fuck is a Dogoo...?" Jack muttered, still stuck on that one point, before raising his brows and sighing. "Uh, sure, either sounds great to me, thanks." He turned towards the fight. "But, uh, should we help her? White Heart, I mean?"

Green Heart sighed, and raised her spear slightly. "I suppose you're right. Come, let us finish Purple Heart once and for all." As she was turning away, Jack raised a hand.

"Ah, question?" he said quickly. Green Heart sighed exasperatedly.

"What?"

"Why exactly are we all attackin' Purple Heart?"

Green Heart paused, and looked to Black Heart for an answer. Her white haired 'comrade' shrugged and gave a rather adorable expression of cluelessness, leaving Green Heart to frown and look down at the floor in thought. "Because...we were told, I suppose."

"Told? By who? I thought you were all goddesses or somethin'."

"Whoever she was, we couldn't see her, and it seemed Purple Heart couldn't hear the voice. It suggested that if we were to get rid of Purple Heart, we wouldn't need to deal with her later." Jack raised a brow.

"Makes a bit of sense, I suppose," he mused. "But why are you listenin' to some random voice that suddenly came out of nowhere?" Green Heart looked up at him with slightly darting eyes and an almost sorry-looking expression, blushing in embarrassment.

"Ah...?" To Jack, she was seeming more like the kind of person that's quite kind, but not exactly the most thoughtful. The fight between White Heart and Purple Heart was now a secondary crisis that Jack wanted solved: He was going to put some sodding sense into these women, and they were gonna fucking _like it_.

"So lemme get this straight," he began, slinging his shotgun over his shoulder so he could use his hands for emphasis. "Not only are you all fightin' for what to me seems like no reason at all, and you're all gangin' up on one of your own, but you're doing it because some dodgy voice said you should? I tell you what, that seems like a right fuckin' set up to me." Nobody else spoke. "I haven't even been here for a few minutes, and I'm already pointin' out your fuckin' mistakes! Maybe this world has different ideals and views on what makes any fuckin' sense, but as an Englishman, I'm requestin' you give me permission to make it my fuckin' mission...nah, my fuckin' _job_ to fix shit that's gone wrong because of your cock-ups." Black Heart and Green Heart had been joined by Purple Heart and White Heart, who were now watching the foul-mouthed tirade in disbelief. "You said you have a monster problem, then fuckin' fine, let me get at those wankers. Crime in progress, no worries, I'll bash their fuckin' heads in and send 'em to jail to get raped. But before I even do any of that, lemme just say that you seem to have absolutely _zero_ fuckin' sense when it comes to doin' things."

"Hey!" White Heart shot back. "We make sure that we know exactly what'll happen when we do somethi-"

"Really?" Jack cut in, jabbing a finger down at her face and causing her to recoil slightly. "Do you fuckin' really? You take orders from some dodgy voice that comes out of bloody nowhere to try and kill Purple Heart, then claim it's justified because you don't have to do it later? Is that really your idea of fuckin' _'knowin' exactly what'll happen when you do somethin'_', because if it is, pardon me for smashin' your train of thought, but that seems _seriously_ fuckin' stupid. Nothin' personally aimed towards any of you lot, but holy shit, you really didn't think this one through, did you, ladies?"

The goddesses were stunned. Was this...human...insulting them? Black Heart gripped her sword and pointed it towards him. "You watch your mouth, mortal!" she snapped. Before she could react, however, the man in front of her had batted the blade out of the way, much to her surprise. "What?! How did you-?!"

"Doesn't matter how I fuckin' did it, because you're not gonna be fuckin' doin' that again, we fuckin' clear?" he barked, pointing a finger towards her chest. She glared back at him, almost tempted to cut him in half right then and there, but...something stopped her, and she reluctantly nodded. She didn't know why, but she wanted to hear what else that the outrageously boorish man had to say. "Good!" he grinned in a rather predatory manner. "Then you four understand me when I say that you didn't think this one through?" They shared a glance, then nodded. "Good. And so what are you gonna do about this 'third party' problem?" They shared another glance.

Good question.

"What I suggest you all do is put your weapons away, go over there, and have a civil fuckin' discussion. Alright?" Jack pointed to an area nearby, where two pillars had fallen down to form an area that looked like they might be able to sit and speak with each other. "Oh, plus, if you try drawin' your arms, I'll fuckin' pelt you with Dragon's Breath shells. Might not do much, but it'll fuckin' hurt." They shared more glances, mostly seeming to ask each other if they could just kill him, then finally, Purple Heart sighed. Her large, glowing purple katana disappeared, and she stood up (hovered) slightly straighter.

"You do have a point, Mr...Bundem...?" she said calmly, before looking back to the other three. "I'll be over there if you need me." Without a word, she began to hover over towards the pillar, before silently setting herself down with a troubled expression. The remaining three CPUs stared at her in amazement. Jack looked at them impatiently, with his arms folded.

"It's 'London'..." he muttered, snaking his head. "And you three?" He looked to the remaining three women. After a moment, Green Heart's lance disappeared in a flash of purple, and she floated silently towards Purple Heart without a word. Her slightly less endowed counterpart looked up at her, and smiled as the seafoam-haired woman sat down opposite. They had already began to have a discussion. A discussion containing less than trusting looks towards each other...but a discussion, nonetheless. White Heart and Black heart both remained speechless.

"Holy shit..." White Heart muttered. Jack resisted smiling. He already liked her: She had no issues with turning the air blue for what may as well have been next to no reason. The first thing she'd said to him was a flurry of insults, and the first thing he'd said to her was "Fuckin' hell," so he figured that if they both had the same views when it came to obscenities, they'd get on fairly well.

If she didn't decide to suddenly murder him with a ridiculously oversized axe, that is.


	2. SWEARING INTENSIFIES

One polite discussion (aggressive arguing) filled with diplomatic offers (death threats and breast-related insults) later, Black Heart began to make her way silently towards Jack. Whilst they were talking, he'd set about doing what he'd been sent to do: Wandering about the rather limited area of Celestia, carefully using a trowel to pick up plants and store them in the test tubes he had been given. When it came to live insects, he simply used a pair of tweezers and put those into tiny glass cases. His stature could be seen as giant in comparison to the CPUs: He was a good foot taller than White Heart, and at least a few inches taller than Purple Heart and Black Heart. Only Green Heart was remotely close to his height, and could even be seen as taller than him if one were to account for the extra two inches on top that her slightly pointed hairstyle provided. Thus, it gave off a rather strange atmosphere as the gigantic form of an armed man crouched next to small flowers and gently put them into delicate looking glass tubes. Plus, he had rather large hands and feet, meaning many of the things he picked up were simply dwarfed.

And it was because of his size that Black Heart couldn't help but feel a slight intimidated. However, she kept a strong, neutral facial expression as she floated over to him, finally stopping behind with her arms behind her back, looking down at him in her usual expression of disappointment and smugness. He hadn't noticed her yet. Rolling her eyes, she cleared her throat, causing the man in front of her to jump in surprised. "Ah! Shit!" he yelled, rolling over to face her and scrambling back slightly. His reaction surprised Black Heart a tad; She raised her right arm slightly, and crossed it over her torso in a partially defensive position, and that's all she was giving away to him. She couldn't have him thinking he'd surprised her. She was in charge. He was just a human...that had a way with words. Jack breathed heavily for a moment, before frowning. "Oh, it's...it's you. Black Heart, wasn't it?"

"Yes. It was." She sighed in exasperation. "You may be interested to know we're done with our current..._negotiations_." Jack smiled, stood up, and dusted himself off. He was now much taller than her. She swallowed slightly, looking up at him whilst keeping her strong expression.

"Well, that's better than you all shankin' each other, ain't it?" he beamed. "And how'd they go?"

Black Heart blinked. "...'shanking'...?"

"It's a word where I come from. Means stabbin'. Not important. Anyway: How'd it go?"

"Well," she began, straightening up. She couldn't help but smile at the progress they had all made. "We CPUs have collectively agreed that further negotiations towards peaceful co-existence are to take place in the very near future. The main terms agreed upon currently focus on making it a breach of the peace treaty to take shares through force. Our primary objective as a whole will be to deal with the monster problem which plagues all of our lands." She paused, looking at Jack with a genuine smile. "I...can't thank you enough for aiding us in these talks. They haven't even been considered for centuries, throughout the whole history of our countries' histories." Jack raised a hand dismissively.

"Well, if I solve a few issues whilst I'm here, then that's quality, ain't it?" he said calmly. "Didn't see a reason you lot should all be fightin' all the time. Don't see a reason any countries should ever have to fight anythin' other than a risin' dictatorship. See, we had a war like that once, 'bout seventy years back."

"Oh?" she raised a brow. "I assume it was vastly different to ours."

"Oh, it bloody well was, I tell you," he replied, picking up the satchel that he'd been using to carry the things he was picking up. "One nutjob with a moustache managed take over a country, then got his army of mongoloids to take over a few countries and wipe out millions of people. So you know what the rest of us did as countries?" he asked, beginning to walk over to the other three goddesses. Black Heart kept pace with him, and shook her head as an answer. "We worked together. We all combined our armies and iced the fuckers. Most of the winnin' countries wouldn't have ever even _dreamed_ of workin' as one, but when the Yanks, plucky old Brits, and the Canadians went from the West, and the Commies stormed from the East, the Germans didn't have the slightest fuckin' chance of victory." She looked at him in amazement. It was a less than informative tale, but it...fit. "Little bit of Earth history, for you," he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets.

Upon reaching the remaining CPUs, they turned to Black Heart and Jack. Green Heart bowed lightly. "On behalf of Leanbox, let me be one of the first to thank you for your help in...putting some sense into our actions. I dread to think how long it would have taken and how many lives would be lost had we continued the way we were acting."

"No worries," Jack said firmly, dismissing her by swiping his hand at waist level. "Just doin' my job." Purple Heart tilted her head.

"This is your job?" she asked. Jack threw his head back and laughed.

"Fuck off, '_is this my job_'," he snorted. "I just like sayin' that sort of thing. Anyway, so I hear you're plannin' further talks?"

"We are," White Heart said flatly. "All that's left to do now is figure out when." Purple Heart raised a hand.

"Actually, there is one more order of business," she noted. "Where exactly is our new friend going to live?"

"Easy," White Heart replied. "You got a house somewhere in Gamindustri, right?"

"Nope," he shrugged.

"Hotel?" Green Heart asked.

"Not got the cash for it, unless you accept British pounds."

"Flat?" Purple Heart suggested.

"That's the same as a house, ain't it?"

"Prison?" Black Heart smirked, folding her arms.

"I'm of British descent, lady, not Australian. Anyway, let's just put it that I don't have anywhere to live. Closest thing I had to a house was with my Mum, Dad, brother, and sister, back in England. I signed up for some 'Interdimensional Venture Project' bullshit for a laugh, and it turns out it was some top-secret international science project where they built a portal to another world. Also, I didn't read the small print, because apparently it said I might not come back from this place. And...uh, I can't go back."

"Why not?" Green Heart asked. Jack gave her an exasperated look, and spread his arms out wide, gesturing around the area and pacing about.

"OH, I'M SORRY," he called back as he stood in the middle of the Celestial battle arena, "AM I MISSIN' THE BLOODY GREAT ABSOLUTELY STONKIN' HUGE LACK OF A FUCKIN' PORTAL? EXCUSE ME! PARDON ME FOR BEIN' SO FUCKIN' BLIND!" Green Heart frowned. Was he upset that he couldn't go home?

"Apologies if I've hit a nerve," she sighed, "I wasn't entirely certain if you would be saddened by me bringing it up, so I-"

"Oh, nah, I ain't sad," Jack beamed as he went back to the group. "The little bit of England I lived in was a shit'ole anyway and my family were cunts. Besides, it was lookin' like that David Milarage or whatever his fuckin' twat-politics-face was might actually win the general election: Sod that. That dick'ead looks like a fuckin' panda." The CPUs offered blank stares, which Jack interpreted as "_what the fuck are you going on about?"_. "Tangent. Anyway, yeah, I have nowhere to live."

"I could spare a guest room," Green Heart mused, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "Though it would be on the condition that you pulled your weight around Leanbox. Furthermore, I believe your..._interesting_ views on the world might serve well in raising the people's morale."

"So you want me to stand on a podium and shout about why everythin's shit? Do I really need the fuckin' podium? Can I have a shitey little moustache and a German accent?" Green Heart shrugged.

"I don't know: Do you?"

"Probably not. Seems like a pretty fair offer, though. So, cheers."

"Indeed," Black Heart cut in. "I can make the same offer, though the terms in the place of speeches involve helping my sister with whatever it is she wishes to do."

"What, like...y'know..." Jack thought for a moment, trailing off, and causing Black Heart's face to subconsciously heat up.

"Fuckin'..."

She was going to kill him if he stopped there.

The remaining three CPUs were trying to conceal their increasing grins.

"...shoppin' and all that other girly shite?" Black Heart let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Oh, I assure you, she isn't that type of younger sister," she said, smiling to herself. '_Uni would have a field day in ripping this guy apart,_' she thought wickedly. "She's a little less interested in shopping, and more in destroying monsters."

"Fair enough. So basically the same deal as Green Heart's, but with babysittin' thrown in?"

"Why? Is looking after someone else a problem for such a brilliant mind as yourself?" she asked coldly.

"On the fuckin' contrary, I'll 'ave you know," Jack shot back, raising a finger. "I used to do babysittin' to earn a few extra quid on the weekends, and then I'd blow it all on non-functional guns so I could scare the shite out of the neighbours. Fuckin' hilarious when I had guests, as well: They'd walk in and shit themselves when they saw the MG-53 I had. And so, considerin' how those guns cost me upwards of a few hundred quid each, and I got about twenty quid for babysittin' for four hours, then I could probably say that I'm suited for the job. The additional violence'd be a fuckin' bonus."

"Are you forgetting the deal we made before your little rant?" White Heart pouted. "You said you'd gladly come down to Lowee to help deal with monsters _and_ for us to study. You ain't from Gamindustri, so that makes you an alien!"

"You won't be fuckin' dissectin' me, before you get that idea. Most I can do is tell you about my world and answer questions. Plus, I've already said I'll deal with monsters. All of you have literally given me the same offer with a different side job involved." The three CPUs shared a glance. Well. Shit.

"Then we have reached an impasse," Green Heart said coldly. "I suggest you go with who you feel most comfortable with."

"But then wouldn't it make more sense if I went on loan to all of you?" Jack asked, idly thumbing at the strap of his Mossberg that stretched over his shoulder

"On loan?" White Heart raised a brow.

"Yeah. Like, spend a while at one of your places, then spend a while at another of your places, then spend a while at another of your places, then repeat the cycle. You all seem to have shit that needs doin', so I might as well get shit done for all of you."

"Yeah. I'm OK with that," she smiled. It was a genuine smile. Not sarcastic or homicidal or anything. She was genuinely smiling. He was making progress with her. "But then it boils down to who you're goin' with first."

"Shit, forgot about that," he muttered. "I'm not fussed."

"Well, you have to decide," Purple Heart grinned. "Or else these three'll start arguing over you."

"We will certainly not!" Black Heart snapped. "Besides, we all know he wants to come with me first."

"In your dreams, Bleachy," White Heart smirked. "Need I remind you who he met here first?"

"And need I remind you who is the most..._mature_ out of us?" Green Heart smiled in a slightly predatory way, shifting her weight in such a way that her large endowments bounced effortlessly. White Heart looked like she was about to snap.

"You think he's gonna go with you because you've got some fat on your chest?" she growled. Jack raised a hand.

"To be fair, Green Heart, she's got a point," he said proudly, straightening his shirt's lapels in one motion and looking out to an unseen object in the distance with his hands on his hips in a rather heroic pose. "As nice as they are, you just can't tempt a proper English gentleman, y'know?"

"Are you sure?" she asked. Once again, she shifted, and her assets bounced violently.

"Holy shit, stop," he said. "I'll end up lookin' at them and then I'd be a fuckin' perv. Anyway, like I said, I don't give a shit who I go with. Not like I have anywhere else to be..."

"Prison." Black Heart said coldly, folding her arms.

"Oh, fuck off, I already said I'm not Australian. Hey, you wanna know summat? You strike me as the kind of person who has no fuckin' mates." Black Heart's eyes went wide in shock and White Heart made a loud 'pfft' sound whilst covering a grin.

"I do have friends!" she cried a bit louder than she expected.

"Name them, wanker."

"Um...th-there's...uh...my sis-"

"Doesn't count."

"What?!"

"In-fuckin'-deed, I was right. No worries, though. I'm certain there's more people that're as depressin' to be around than you. They're called politicians." Black Heart was gritting her teeth, and a vein was bulging on her forehead.

"I think you'd best stop," Purple Heart smiled. "She might have a breakdown."

"Fine, fine," Jack sighed, turning and beginning to idly pace about. He reached a hand up to his chin and scratched the slight stubbled beard he had. "Anyway, how're we decidin' who I go with? Can't do a coin toss: I've got no soddin' coins. Swear to Christ, you find useless fuckin' coins all over the place in England, then when you actually fuckin' need one, there bloody isn't one around..."

"I suppose we could go by whoever grabs him first?" Green Heart suggested. Jack stopped scratching his stubble.

"Wait, what?"

"Sounds fair: I'm game." White Heart grinned, setting herself up to leap forwards at a moment's notice.

"What the fuck are we doin'?"

"Well, he'll be coming with me, then." Purple Heart smirked, readying herself.

"Seriously, could one of you tell me what the fuck we're doin'?"

"In your dreams." Black Heart frowned. She was taking it seriously.

"Wait, to Purple Heart, or my que-?"

_**One catfight later...**_

"It seems that this all turned out well," Black Heart announced proudly, smiling to herself as she dragged Jack down through the clouds to Lastation below. She was rather full of herself: Her little move where she delivered a sneaky elbow to the ribs really stunned Green Heart, allowing her to grab Jack's armpits and fly straight off the side of Celestia. She was used to it.

Jack, on the other hand, clearly wasn't.

Every time she looked down at him, Black Heart had to resist bursting out laughing: The brash, plucky Brit was effectively hugging her arms with most of his body, looking worriedly down at the passing ground below. Every so often, though, she couldn't resist bumping her shoulder up slightly and watching him panic and hold on tighter. His assortment of bandoliers, straps, bags, and holsters all flapped in the rushing winds, yet his shirt remained remarkably still. She was slightly discomforted by the fact his head was underneath her dangling breasts: She was already aware there were quite a few men that were..._fans_ of her. Jack would be a target of envious letters for a few weeks.

From where he was, Jack could see that the people of Gamindustri had certainly advanced in terms of technology and industry: Factories and swanky-looking houses were everywhere. He envied it: London was a right shithole, and the most exciting place was a skyscraper that nobody gave a fuck about. It was a nice change of pace as well, especially since the last buildings he'd seen were some government-military labs in Nevada, and that was when he was on a bus full of other test subjects that would be going with him.

Criminals, most of them. Whole bunch of them had been transported with handcuffs, so he assumed they must have been on death row or serving life, then been given the offer. Along with his friend James, he was the only one who wasn't in cuffs on that truck. Plus, where the hell did the rest of his mates go? Josh? James? Luke? Fuckin' magicians.

He ignored the thoughts, and noticed how nice some of the houses were, none more so than the much taller building they were headed towards, which seemed to be styled as a mix of a Chinese pagoda and a gothic castle. "That's your house?" Jack called over rushing winds. "Fuckin' hell, you've got it good!"

"Though I admit it pales in comparison to Planeptune's basilicom, it's certainly preferable to living in prison, as I assume you did," she replied. Jack frowned.

"English, lady, not Aussie," he shot back. "So what do I need to do when we land?" He swung his legs slightly, watching his booted feet sway in the rapid winds.

"Nothing. Just stand back and let me to do the talking." She kept her eyes forwards, not looking at him and instead focusing on her landing. "Then we'll discuss the terms of your stay." Jack simply shifted a bit against her arm, gripping onto it for dear life.

"And those were to look after your sister or somethin', weren't they?" he asked. "What's her name?"

"Her name is Uni," Black Heart said flatly. "Also, unwrap your legs from my arm. We're here." Jack paused, and finally complied, disentangling his legs and resigning himself to simply hold onto his surprisingly strong pilot's bicep as they began to descend to a large, tiled balcony. Upon reaching a height of three meters from the ground, Jack let go of Black Heart's arm, dropped the rest of the distance, and rolled to a crouch, hand resting on his Skorpion's grip at his waist as he assessed the surroundings. The white-haired woman who had dropped him off folded her arms and landed, rolling her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"What I was trained to do for a year before I came here," Jack said firmly, finally standing up but keeping a hand on his holster. "If they make me spend a whole fuckin' year doin' the sort of shit that the SAS wouldn't have to do, and then there comes a point where I need to fall onto a hard surface safely, then I'll be fuckin' usin' that trainin'."

"You wouldn't have needed to, I was going to put you onto the ground safely," Black Heart groaned, stalking past him with her heeled swagger towards an office that the balcony connected to. It was lavishly decorated, with an overall feel of some vampiric castle; Books stacked high onto shelves, a large window, large desk with assorted shite on it, and what looked like a Victorian-era elevator shaft set to the side of the room. Black Heart walked behind her desk, and suddenly began to glow purple. Jack shielded his eyes from the blinding light, almost tempted to draw his machine pistol, before the light stopped. Looking towards where Black Heart was, there now stood a younger girl. She couldn't have been even in her twenties, and was wearing an old-styled dress with flecks of blue and red. Plus, her hair was now in two black ponytails with blue ribbons, her eyes were a deep red, and she was wearing thigh-high boots. She exhaled, and sat at her desk. There was a moment's silence.

"Fuckin' hell, that was weird," Jack said bluntly. "You just went from wearin' a catsuit to wearin' a dress, and also dropped down a few years. And centimeters. Also cup sizes."

"Sit down." She shot him a glare, pointing to a chair on the other side of the desk. Jack, not being well-versed in interview etiquette, did nothing and looked at her blankly.

"See, this is why I said you don't have any mates-"

"_Sit. Down._"

"Alright, fine, whatever you say, Other Black Heart," he whistled, before unslinging his shotgun, setting it against the chair arm, and seating himself down in the fine red chair. It audibly groaned under his weight, and he looked at it. "Not too sure this chair can take it."

"You're a big guy," the girl replied. She kept a frown on him. "Of course it would be strained. There is nobody else I know of but Green Heart who is as tall as you, and even then, you're taller."

"Indeed I am," he nodded. "Anyway: What's the first order of business?"

"That should be obvious by now," she smirked, clicking a pen and throwing it to him, before reaching under the desk and withdrawing a comically oversized stack of papers. "_Paperwork._"

"Are these immigration forms or somethin'?" he asked.

"Immigration?"

"You don't know what immigration is?"

"Of course I do! They're not immigration forms!"

"Then, they're...?"

"Citizenship papers."

"Wait, _citizenship_?" Jack recoiled slightly. "I thought that I'd be goin' from country to-"

"Don't worry," she laughed. "You can't legally go between countries without a citizenship. The only people without citizenships are terror suspects, criminals, and on-duty military forces. You're just signing this so it's legal for you to move around a bit more freely."

"Oh...cheers, then," Jack shrugged, before beginning to look over the paperwork. The woman leaned back in her chair and put her feet on the desk whilst she waited for him to get through the papers.

A few minutes later, he spoke up. "So, Black Hea-"

"Noire."

"...Noire?"

"It's Noire. If I'm in HDD, it's Black Heart. When I am like I am now, it's Lady Noire. You'll call me Lady Noire."

"Well...uh, sorry, I suppose. So, Lady Noire..."

"Yes?"

"What happens if I'm already counted as a citizen somewhere else?" Noire sat up and looked at him in shock.

"You can't be!" she cried. "You said you were from another world!"

"I am, and in that world, I'm a British citizen." Noire relaxed a bit. "Is that gonna make any difference?"

"Not really," she replied, checking her nails and reclining again. "The most problems you'll get would likely be people taking an interest in your accent, your clothing, your figures of speech, your height, your foul language, your weapons, your sudden presence close to the CPUs, your high level, and such like."

"So, basically, I'll stand the fuck out. Great. Wait...'High level'?" he raised a brow. Noire chuckled. _He really is from another world. Holy heck, he's already through half the papers. Did I fall asleep or something...?_

"Here, your prowess in defeating monsters is helped by your level. If you're level one, you'll struggle with even a Dogoo. If you're level one hundred, you'll be able to beat a pack of Dogoos using another Dogoo as a bludgeon."

"So I figure that I'd be a grand total of level...?"

"One hundred and sixty three."

"Yeah, zero, I figured tha-wait, **one hundred and sixty fuckin' three?!**"

"One six three," she nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be at level zero or whatever?"

"Maybe because you won a fight with the four most powerful living things in Gamindustri _by yelling at them_?"

"...that wasn't really..._winnin'_ a fight...more...defusin'..."

"Words carry more strength than actions, in some cases. And in your case, you began the end of a centuries-old war."

"Well...OK, but how'd you know what level I am? How do I know what level you are? Or anybody else is?"

"Is it not obvious?"

"No, it really isn't."

"Pfft. You really are an alien."

"Yeah, pardon me for comin' from a world where the only thing that'd cause you a problem would be hoodies on the fuckin' street corner, alright?"

"Ugh. The way you figure out someone's level is by looking towards their heart. After a second, you should be able to see a number."

"...so I stare at people's chests?"

"Yes."

"So you're basically saying it's custom to look at a woman's chest?"

"W-What?! N-No!"

"Then how do I figure it out without being slapped?"

"It...it comes naturally to residents of Gamindustri! You just want a reason to stare at my voluptuous chest!"

"Oh, fuck off. Papers are done anyway." Jack clicked the pen sharply, and pushed the stack of papers towards Noire, who recoiled in shock.

"Wh-What?!" she cried, staring up at the several meter high pile in disbelief. "H-How did you get them done so fast?!" Jack gave a shit-eating grin.

"Ain't it obvious?" Noire glared at him for a moment, before sighing.

"...very well. Congratulations on becoming a citizen of Lastation." She stood up, and leaned forward, offering a hand to shake. Jack stood up as well, leaning forward much further to reach her height, before engulfing her tiny hand in his gorilla-sized monstrosities. Noire held back a squeak of terror.

_oh god where is my hand what if he crushes it will i ever see my hand again_

After a brief shake, Jack released his grip, and Noire let out a breath she had no idea she was holding before making her way around the desk. "So, anyway, next, I need to introduce you to my sister and the Basilicom staff. Come along."

"Sure," Jack nodded, kicking his shotgun from the edge of the desk up into the air, and racking the pump as he caught it. An orange-coloured Dragon's Breath shell flew from the chamber, rolling onto Noire's desk and finally dropping onto her seat. "Lead the way."

_**An hour later...**_

"Fuck me, you really do like your gothic European architecture, don't you?" he said loudly as they passed down yet _another_ corridor that wouldn't have looked out of place in Dracula's castle. "Your house is really fuckin' weird, I'll be honest." The sun was already setting over Lastation, so by Jack's best guess, it was probably about seven or eight o'clock. The time had absolutely no effect on Noire's mood: She turned and offered her seemingly natural glare to her taller, male companion.

"At least I have a home!" she whined. "If it weren't for me, you'd be sleeping out in the streets!"

"And if you'd have sent me out there, I'd have cleansed the streets of criminals _personally_," he grunted calmly. "Your funeral businesses would also get a bit of extra work comin' in, so there'd be that, as well." Noire sighed.

"You can stop pretending to be a tough guy. I've already seen that you're scared of flying, and that's not very manly."

"Hey, I'm not fuckin' scared of flyin'!" he snapped. "It's just the bit where I'm suddenly not flyin' that gets me worked up..." Just then, there came a loud, female voice from down the hall behind them.

"_Sister!_" it cried loudly, prompting Jack to turn and face the new voice in a way that wasn't intimidating. Running down the hall towards them was a shorter version of Noire in a less skimpy dress. She had the same red eyes, same black hair...yep, this was probably Noire's sister, Uni.

And holy shit, she was bloody adorable.

Jack looked down at her as she ran past him so she could stand in front of her older sister. Looking down at them, Jack could definitely tell how he might seem intimidating to some of Gamindustri's citizens: Supposedly, the CPUs in HDD were the tallest humans/gods, and Jack was taller than them. Back on Earth, he was average sized. In Gamindustri, he was a fucking giant that was taller than all their sexy, female, multi-coloured variants of Jesus. If he was guessing, Uni had to be less than a hundred and fifty centimeters, since she barely even reached his chest and just reached Noire's nose in terms of height. Even then: She was wearing heels. "I'm so happy to see you, sis!" she beamed. Noire only partially returned the gesture, offering a half smile and straightening up.

"I'm glad to see you too." She gestured towards Jack. "Now, Uni, I have someone I'd like you to meet. This is Mr. Jack London, from a different world. He's going to be helping you with whatever it is you need to do I'm not around." The smaller girl looked up at him worriedly.

"Uh...hi?" she said carefully. Jack smiled down at her.

"Hey."

"Wow. You're a big guy."

"For you," Jack mused, scratching his stubble. "I'm not exactly the tallest where I'm from. In fact, I'd be average height."

"Where are you from? Are you an alien?" she asked curiously, putting her hands behind her back and rocking back and forth on her heels. She really was like a younger sister: She literally didn't care that he was a strange man, as long as he'd spoken to Noire first.

"Well, I suppose it might be hard to explain, but if I cut it down, I get 'Went through taxpayer-funded portal on Earth, and ended up on some floating island in Gamindustri'. So, yeah, I technically count as an alien, if that's somethin'." Uni let out a quiet '_wow_', and looked him over in amazement. Jack offered a glance to Noire, who was smiling almost encouragingly. "Are you really here to help me do things?"

"Sure thing," Jack replied. "I owe your sister one for pulling me out of a fight, so she said I could help you out to pay her back."

"She saved you? She's great, right?" Uni smiled. "One day, I'll be just as developed as her, and save people like you all the time!" She paused, and held her hands in front of herself. "Ah-heh...wh-when I learn how to transform, that is..." Noire smiled. Holy shit, she had other facial expressions outside of 'fuck you', 'fuck you', and 'smug grin crossed with fuck you'.

"Sounds nice, gotta say," Jack grinned back. "World could use some heroes to go against the ne'er-do-wells'. You got anythin' you need help with?" Uni put a hand to her chin, before shaking her head.

"Not right now, but thanks for asking, though!" Jack smiled. He already liked Uni a lot, and he'd known her for a good few hours less than he'd known Noire for. Maybe it was because his conversation with Uni was two-sided, friendly, and two of the two parties involved liked meeting new people. When it came to his relations with Noire, they went badly because one of the two enjoyed meeting people, and the other was literally a block of fucking ice with the social skills of Hitler.

So maybe he just prefered Uni because she wasn't shitty company.

Jack turned, and looked to Noire. "Alright, so what do I need to do now?" he asked.

"Personally, I'd suggest you headed back to your room and got some sleep," replied the goddess, checking her nails casually. "Because I'd assume my dear sister is going to run you through the wringer tomorrow." Uni dismissed her with a wave of the hand and tapped Jack's arm.

"Don't worry, it'll be just a few dungeons!" beamed the younger sister.

Jack nodded calmly, patting his Skorpion's holster and tugging the strap of his Mossberg. "I've had the training to kill three men with a pencil; I think I can handle it."


	3. Magnesium Shells Are Ace

At a time like it was, it was a perfect time (as it always was, in his mind) for him to utter the immortal words: "Holy _shit_." Spread before his eyes was proof that the villagers weren't lying when they said they recently started having a Dogoo problem: The fields were filled with small, bouncing, blue, poop-shaped..._things_, all of which were wearing happy faces and making strange noises. Uni turned to him and raised a brow.

"What? You've never seen this many Dogoos before?" she asked.

"No, I've never seen a Dogoo before, _full stop._ The fuck are they supposed to be? Badly coloured pieces of dog shit?"

"Nobody knows!" she beamed, before quite casually summoning a large rifle in front of her and nonchalantly putting in a clip. "All I know is that they normally go down in one hit from this rifle, and that's fine by me." She turned to the female villagers standing beside them. "Don't worry, ladies: We'll have this done in a jiffy!" There arose a brief cheer, and Jack watched Uni raise her gun and begin hammering shots away at Dogoos that were on their own. Rather than the loud bangs he had been expecting, there instead came the sound of Generic Laser Noise #108575, and the muzzle came out with a brilliant green energy beam that disintegrated whatever it hit. Jack felt slightly disappointed. He wanted to see her using a .50 caliber rifle against piles of mush. Sighing, he unslung his Mossberg and pulled the pump back a tad: He could see the red shell peeking out, meaning his shots would come in the form of 00 Buckshot: Bigger pellets.

He closed the chamber, took aim at a small cluster of Dogoos on a nearby slope, and pulled the trigger. A loud boom startled everyone nearby, and a wash of flame roared from the end of the shotgun's barrel. The Dogoos almost immediately glowed purple and smashed into data: Either he was overleveled and each individual shotgun pellet could kill a Dogoo, human guns were insanely powerful, or Dogoos were weak as shit. Uni lowered her rifle slightly and looked at Jack as he racked the pump. "What the heck was that?!" she half-cried.

"An instant-fuckin'-kill, that's what it was," he replied smartly, taking aim at another group. "Shame I didn't ask for an AA-12, though: My arm'll have fuckin' fallen off from rackin' the pump by the time I'm done with these wankers." Uni swallowed hard.

'_He's got some vocabulary..._' she thought in a rather worried manner, returning to her own shooting. The villagers began murmuring in discomfort, interjected by the shatteringly-loud boom of shotgun blasts with a follow-up of the pump clicking loudly. Uni kept her composure, only occasionally giggling upon a Dogoo's defeat and carefully lining up shots.

Ten minutes passed, and the duo had moved forwards through the field, into the thick of the blue creatures. The ground was damp with blue goo, and slowly but surely, the Dogoos had started surrounding them. "Fuckin' hell, how many of these little fuckers are there?!" Jack yelled, shotgun-butting away a Dogoo that had taken a jump at him and turning it into a flash of purple.

"They said they had a Dogoo problem!" Uni cried, jabbing at those who got too close using the end of her gun. She was clearly getting desperate, and so was Jack: Both of them were back to back (or back to lower back, in terms of Uni's height), and only really able to hold the line for a minute more before they were overrun by blue squidgy...things. Jack groaned as he realised that the shotgun wasn't getting much done in terms of crowd control, but continued firing. Each blast wiped out a crowd of Dogoos, but the empty space would be quickly filled by many more. His shots had become a _lot_ more rapid, with him firing off a shot every one or two seconds and shooting from the hip like some eighties action hero. He gave a growl as he realised his weapon's ineffectiveness, reached onto the shell bandolier under his shirt, and grabbed one of the candy-orange tubes, clicking it into the shotgun and racking the pump.

As he prepared to fire, he could feel the small girl behind him, trembling in what seemed to be either fear or panic. "You cold?" Jack asked, looking back. Uni was spattered in turquoise gunk, and looked to be rather frightened of the oncoming hordes. They stretched out as far as he could actually see. Oceans of blue. Uni cast a brief glance back.

"N-No! I just don't like the prospect of what's gonna happen if we're overrun!" she called back over the loud noises that the Dogoos kept making.

"You were shiverin' a second ago, seemed like you were cold!" Jack replied, before holding his shotgun at the hip. "Lemme warm you up!"

He pulled the trigger, and an even louder bang echoed around the area. From the end of the barrel flew a huge wash of real flames that ripped over the horde of small, effectively harmless creatures and splashed over them, igniting them. And from there, the Dogoos' innocent groaning noises changed into something much darker: Screaming. Human-like screaming. Hundreds of them were ablaze at excessively high temperatures, and their continued, panicked bouncing amongst their comrades only served to help spread the flames. Uni couldn't tell what was going on from where she was, but the heat radiating from behind her meant she probably wasn't going to like it. Jack wasn't exactly sure what he was meant to be feeling as he watched the monsters burn. Hatred? Sadistic enjoyment? A want for more? Disgust?

He wasn't sure.

Maybe he'd have to do it again to figure out.

He span the shotgun to bear left, racked the pump, and fired again. Once more, blistering heat ripped out of the barrel and tore across rows of Dogoos, setting them all alight and encouraging more to change from groaning noises to terrifying screams. From the corner of her eye, Uni could see what was going on: She squinted under the burning glow of melting Dogoos, and shielded her face from the excessive heat. Yet through the cracks she had formed in her eyelids, she could see a scene that echoed some ring of hell for Dogoos: Hundreds upon hundreds of the small, notably harmless creatures were lit with blistering flames, and as they bounced around screaming, they were constantly bumping into more of their companions and lighting them, setting off a ripple effect. Her jaw fell open slightly at the sight. Trembling, she put her own rifle away and turned to Jack, who was scratching his stubble, shotgun slung over his shoulder, and his eyes were in the usual squint she'd noticed he had. Eventually, realising he was being stared at, he looked at Uni, and neither said anything for a few moments.

"Aye?" he said calmly, raising a brow. Uni clenched her fists, and looked him in the eyes.

"_That. Was. Awesome!_" she squealed, raising both her hands beneath her chin in a generic 'fangirl' pose. "How did you make all those Dogoos set on fire so fast?"

"Well, I used a Dragon's Breath shotgun shell," he replied, drawing another one of the orange cylinders of hell from his bandolier. "Basically a shotgun shell full of fuckin' Magnesium or some shit, and I don't run out for some reason. I only need to load one shell, and then I can go fuckin' mental with it and not have to reload. Cockin' it just makes a usable copy of the shell fall out, so I literally have an endless supply. Got no idea how it fuckin' works, since the machine guns I brought with me don't run out either and just throw functionin' bullets fuckin' everywhere, but..."

"I don't see you complaining!" Uni beamed, before extending a hand to ask for the shotgun shell. Cautiously, amidst the fire and flames, Jack carried on, placing the shell into Uni's noticeably small hand and watching her study it in amazement.

"You pretty much nailed it on the head, there," he nodded. "If I was guessin', then I'd have probably fired off a few hundred shells by now, and I only packed about sixty. But like you said: I don't give a shit, because who complains about a tactical advantage for themselves? Anyways, yeah, that little thing you're holdin' is able to shoot fire that sticks to shit and burns at...three thousand-somethin' degrees. It's also not allowed to be used in hunting or on livin' things, so I dunno why the government goons let me have a play with it."

"Maybe they just thought that you wouldn't meet any living things?" suggested the girl in front of him, still investigating the shell.

"Maybe, but then why'd they let me bring guns in the first place if they thought I wouldn't meet anythin' that's alive?" Jack asked flatly. "Besides, if they were gonna give me weapons, I'd have expected them to give me somethin' like an M4AK15AR with civilian-seekin' bullets and thermal British soldier lock-on sights or whatever the fuck the Yanks are usin' in the Middle East. It was an American portal I went through, and everyone I'd met before goin' in was American, or a criminal, so I dunno why they let me have whatever the hell I wanted to bring."

"Uh..." Uni put a hand to her chin, leaning forward and slipping the shell back into the bandolier slot, much to Jack's surprise. "Maybe, because they might have known you might not come back, maybe it was a last request?"

"Last request?"

"Yeah. Like, before prisoners are put to death, they're allowed one last meal, and it can be _anything_ they want, no matter how silly. So maybe letting you bring whatever you wanted was the same as a last request!" Jack frowned.

"You think so?" he asked worriedly. "You think they knew I wasn't goin' back?" Now it was Uni's turn to look slightly saddened.

"Uh...maybe?" she said in as reassuring a manner as she could muster. "Besides: You said you had some friends from back home that came through as well, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," he nodded. "Why, you think they're wanderin' about somewhere?"

"Well, if you're here, I don't see why they wouldn't be," she replied, shrugging slightly before taking a glance around. The screams had died down, at least, and those Dogoos that hadn't been burned alive were visibly bouncing much faster towards their escape. The ones that had been killed had reverted to naught but piles of caramelized blue gunk that littered the field.

Oh, yeah, the field.

It was pretty much ruined until someone could clean up the mess of sticky, lava-like blue paste. Uni felt pretty sorry for whoever had that wonderful job once they'd left. She turned to look back up at Jack again whilst wearing an awkward. "Uh...I think...we won?"

"So I gathered," he said calmly. "I'd be more confused if you told me we'd fuckin' lost. Must've burned about four hundred of the dirty little bastards." He paused to kick at a small pile of Dogoo slime that resided near his foot, and watched it move with the physical qualities of wallpaper paste. "So...are we done here?"

"Yup!" Uni beamed. "Thanks for the help, by the way: I wouldn't have been able to pull this off alone!" Jack dismissed her praise with a hand as they began walking from the field.

"Ah, no worries," he said casually. "It's part of my duty to your sister to look after you, and help you with whatever it is you need doin', so I could get used to helpin' with this sorta thing."

"Well, I could get used to having your help," Uni smiled. "I mean...yeah, your methods are..._extreme_, shall we say-"

"At least it wasn't White Phosphorous."

"-and you swear _quite_ a lot-"

"Part of growin' up in a fuckin' English society, can't fuckin' change it."

"-but you're more fun than most of the other guys that my sister grabbed to keep an eye on me. With them, they treated me like I was just a kid!"

"I've learned not to do that," Jack said flatly, arching himself backwards to click his back. "From what I've learned, I'm probably taller than absolutely every single other person in this entire world, so I can't exactly treat people different because of their height. Like, holy shit, have you ever fuckin' _seen_ White Heart? She's bloody tiny! And such a tiny woman could honestly be the most foul-mouthed out of anyone I've met here thus far, so I've seriously learned not to judge people by their heights or apparent ages." He looked down at Uni. "How old are you?"

"Uh...I just turned turned seventeen about ten months ago. My birthday's in a few weeks."

"And yet you look..." Jack squinted slightly as he assessed her. "...yeah, I'd guess you look about your age. How old's your sister? Is she like twenty-somethin'?"

"Oh, yeah, she's a few thousand years old."

"Wait, _seriously_?" Jack nearly spat put his metaphorical coffee. "Holy shit, she looks great for her age!" He couldn't help but think back to her near perfect figure: She had the kind of body most women would commit mass homicides to have.

"Well, duh!" Uni groaned. "She's immortal, she's gonna look good! She always looks good!"

"So she's always gonna look like a supermodel?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Glad I'm not immortal, then. I'd be stuck lookin' like a miserable prick for all eternity."

"Really? You don't seem that miserable to me."

"Ah, well, that's because I grew up being _forced_ to be happy by my family. Always wanted me to do the best I could, y'know? And then one day...somethin' clicked. Dunno what it was."

"What happened?" Uni couldn't help but ask. He seemed so cheerful now...what changed?

"Well, I dunno, that's the thing. I stopped looking at the world in a positive light. Nothin' was good. Everythin' had a catch. Anybody was capable of anythin'. When I realized that, I realized that since everythin' was shit regardless of how you look at it, there wasn't really that much stoppin' me from takin' the piss out of bad stuff. Terror attacks, celebrities gettin' iced, mass murders, plane crashes...they all have some degree of humour to 'em. I can still pull a pretty bloody convincin' smile: Helped me get top grades in my high-school drama lessons. Teacher said I could easily become a famous actor, but look at me now." Uni raised a brow with a genuine sense of confusion as Jack presented himself, arms wide apart as he paused only to stomp a Dogoo that was still partially alive to death.

She could only think of one question.

"...are you OK? Like, 'up there'?"

_**Several hours later, at the Basilicom...**_

"...what do you mean, 'PTSD'?" Noire grimaced over the voice on the phone. "They got rid of the Dogoos, correct?" There was a pause. Uni had taken a corner of Noire's office, and was reading a book. Jack was standing outside on the balcony, hands in his pockets and watching Lastation's sunset. "...but...ugh. Yes...yes, I understand. O-OK, thank you for your call. OK. Bye." Noire put the receiver down, exhaled, and fell back into her chair. "What did you two even _do?_" she groaned, rubbing a hand onto her forehead in exasperation. Jack, not even turning back from his view off the balcony, raised a hand.

"Fuckin' aced those bastards, is what we did," he replied nonchalantly. "Turns out that burnin' shotgun shells work really fuckin' well against loads of Dogoos." Uni sighed, and didn't look up from her book, although her face did appear troubled.

"He managed to make hundreds of Dogoos start making screaming noises," she explained. "Something about the ammo he was using burning at three thousand or so degrees."

"Fahrenheit?" Noire asked, folding her arms and raising a brow. "That's not that bad. Not even that impressive. So why was that woman complaining that she had trau-?"

"I'd assume Celsius." Uni corrected. Noire nearly screamed.

"_**WHAT?!**_"

"Metric beats Imperial, wanker!" Jack cheered back to her, pumping a fist and grinning. "Boo-yah! British temperature unit conversion!"

"You killed Dogoos with bullets that burn at **three thousand degrees Celsius?!**" Noire didn't relent with her yelling, standing next to Jack and looking up at him with an adorable expression. He stared down at her.

"...you're yellin' at me, aren't you?" he asked genuinely.

"No! No, of course not! That type of ammunition is _genius_!" squealed the smaller woman in front of him. Uni came up and stood beside her sister, arms wrapped in front of her torso with a book held to her chest. She, too, was smiling, mostly at her sister actually being happy for once. "It's brilliant! We should mass produce it! Sell it in shops for adventurers and hunters! Give it to the army! Anything! How does it work?" Jack was slightly taken aback by the fact Noire was both smiling, and clutching the sides of his arms and staring up into his face with a slightly worrying glint in her eyes.

"Uh..." he murmured. Couldn't exactly scratch his head in this position. "Well...does your army use shotguns? Like, are they common in Gamindustri?"

"My sister has a rifle, if that's anything?" Noire gestured to Uni, who grinned, shut her eyes, and waved.

"Well, a shotgun's different. Instead of shootin' _a_ bullet, they fire _lots_ of _tiny_ bullets at the same time. Like, pellets. Bigger they are, more damage they do. Plus, they're fairly cheap to produce, and do well in huntin' birds, from what I remember. Anyway, the shells can be loaded with pretty much anythin': I watched an internet video where some bloke filled one with hard sweets and blew up a fuckin' melon with it. These ones are loaded with Magnesium, I think," Jack explained, withdrawing the bright orange shell yet again and offering to to Noire to inspect. "The explosion firin' off the shell lights the metal, then it burns at a ridiculously fuckin' high temperature and sticks to whatever it hits. People, birds, the local dog, stray cats, Jehovah's Witnesses, carjackers, the person you're carjackin', robbers, walls, civilians, whatever. Also cooks bacon. Probably." He paused, and looked at the slightly burned barrel of the Mossberg leaning against the balcony rail. "Wouldn't test that one, to be honest."

"It's..._genius_..." Noire whispered, closely inspecting the round with all the interest of a CSI investigator. Jack continued to stare at her in slight confusion, idly drumming his fingers on the cream-camo ballistic plates adorning his forearms. He'd pretty much gotten used to the weight of the things, plus the ones on his shins, and the body armour on his torso. Few extra kilos here and there, nothing he couldn't handle, but the instructor that had been training him, and the other subjects, for the mission made it very clear that wearing armour often slows you down. He didn't really need to to be told that. Before he was picked, Jack used to sit around, playing video games and living the general life of a young British lad. He was on a day out with his mates when they saw that bloke in the street that was trying to get people to sign up for the 'Extradimensional Discovery Mission' or whatever the fuck it was called at the time. Seeing it as a cause for a laugh later on, Jack, Josh, James, and Luke all just signed right the hell up. Why wouldn't you? Couldn't have been real, could it?

Apparently it was.

And apparently it meant that they were taken from England and sent to Nevada, where they spent a year or so training under the combined teachings of the SAS, GIGN, Marines, Royal Marines, Green Berets, Rangers, and all those other hardass wankers that could probably re-enact Hotline Miami against a fortified nuclear bunker, using only a baseball bat. Needless to say, Jack's fat dropped off pretty damn fast. He also became quite comfortable in dreadful conditions with bad people, especially considering that he had been sent to Nevada (a massive shithole where literally nothing happens) and trained with criminals (people who did lots of things and had lots of tattoos and were trying to not get executed), military personnel (a few of them were too good to have been _not_ already trained in everything), a police officer (thick-skinned motherfucker), a few of his friends (hardly saw them much), and a few more people his age with his mindset (they tended to go along with whatever the bigger guys said they should do, so they were probably gonna end up in crime anyway). Jack, Josh, James, and Luke were favourites of the trainer, probably because they didn't answer back, slack off, or piss about. For Jack, at least, it was pretty much just a good way to get some exercise done and stop being a fat piece of shit.

He cast a glance down to himself. He wasn't in bad shape. He could probably qualify as an athlete, after all that training. Just then, Noire calmly reached forward, placed the Dragon's Breath shell back into the leather ammo belt over his torso, and then took one of the green flechette rounds from his trouser belt. He didn't exactly mind: Having a pretty woman reach towards his crotch wasn't something he couldn't gloat about, but she could have bloody asked first. She began muttering the words on the side of the shell to herself, and Jack knew exactly what she was thinking. "Flechette," he said flatly. "The equivalent of firing nails at people if the nails went through armour and thick skin." Noire nodded in understanding and continued investigating the shell. There was a pause, before Jack smiled slightly. "Y'know, I didn't take you for the kind of person that'd be into this sorta thing." Noire briefly went wide eyed.

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly.

"Well, you just seemed really keen when Uni mentioned what my gun was capable of."

"Th-That's just because it's interesting!" Noire said defensively, straightening up and putting the shell behind her back and donning a more serious face. There was a noticeable red flush adorning her cheeks. It was cute, Jack had to admit. But if he said that out loud she'd probably smash him in the bollocks with her foot, so he didn't say it because of his lack of testicle protection. "I-I just thought it was...cool, that's all! Tactically effective! Yes! That's it!"

"Sure it was..." Jack whistled, putting his hands in his pockets. "Anyway, how're those negotiations comin' along?" Noire perked up a bit, nonchalantly putting the shotgun shell into her bra for safekeeping. Jack would now envy flechette rounds for several days, and had to fight his instincts so as not to reach in and get it out.

"Well, they're going fine, thanks," she replied sharply, folding her arms and smiling. "The first meeting is being held tomorrow afternoon, in Leanbox's basilicom. That's also the changeover day for you."

"Changeover day?" Uni asked.

"Yes; It's the day that Jack is put into the hands of another kingdom, in this case Leanbox." Uni seemed slightly disheartened by this.

"But I thought he was looking after me?" Uni's eyes pricked with tears.

"He is," Noire said quickly, sensing that she couldn't just guilt-trip the fuck out of Jack so soon. "He's...just...on loan. To everyone."

"I help every kingdom, accordin' to my new job description, and every country I go to has a different side job," he said calmly, before smiling down at Uni, crouching slightly and putting a hand on the smaller girl's shoulder. "But so far, lookin' after you is probably the most fun I've had for a _very_ long time." Uni looked up at him, and smiled.

"Really?"

"Yeah, genuinely. Wasn't expectin' the SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES trainin' to come into practice when I was watchin' over you, but it did, and I'm glad. Plus, I got to play with fire, and have an interestin' conversation." Noire pouted slightly at his comment.

"How did you pronounce that...?" she muttered quietly, one hand on her hip as she looked down slightly in contemplation.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" Uni beamed, before rushing forward and, to the surprise of both Noire and Jack, embraced him in a crushing hug, burying her face into his left shoulder. "Thank you...so much..." she whispered. Over her shoulder, he could see Noire shooting him a very sharp glare.

'_Repay the gesture of appreciation. NOW.'_

Fuck. Jack, carefully, put his gargantuan arms over Uni's back and carefully patted it with one hand. "Uh...no worries..." he said gently. He noted that she was _very_ small. It was like hugging a small woman, although he assumed Uni's height would be normal for Gamindustri. After another awkward few moments, Uni pulled away, smiling.

"Thanks! I needed that!" she beamed. Jack remained silent.

"Yeah, OK. I don't...get it, but...OK, I suppose?"


	4. Change of Hands

The first thing he noticed about Leanbox was its jarring similarity to rural-urban England. The buildings seemed to be made in the same style as Victorian-era British homes, with the cobbled roads only furthering the effect. Plus, the architecture only held this style for a short distance until it turned into a grey, urban jungle with ridiculous buildings covered in glass with incredibly boring company names. Naturally, his presence in the car with Lady Noire would have been awkward due to his size, so he had been told to walk the rest of the way to the basilicom, meaning he was facing a large number of people that were amazed by his height and, from what he gathered, the fact he was male: _Everyone_ he had met up to that point was a woman, besides the receptionist at the Lastation basilicom. He wasn't certain if this was due to gender inequality, or the fact that Gamindustri was a strongly feminist world, or whatever. But as far as he was concerned, he had a fuckload of women following him around through curiosity, and he could probably boast about it to his friends...if he ever met them again, that is.

Frowning, and squinting slightly under the unsubtle flash of a camera in his face, he continued his trek to the large building in the distance. It looked like a mansion, with gates and such like, and from where he was (not even having to bother asking people to move so he could see) he could identify Lady Noire's assigned car parked outside the entrance to the building, so he was on the right track. He grimaced as he felt another intrigued hand unbutton the holster on his belt and reach for his Skorpion, so he instinctively batted the hand away and clipped it shut again.

He was so tempted to do what they do in the movies and shoot a shitload of rounds into the air. But what if they came down and killed someone?

Pah, bollocks. He'd just have to deal with the crowds. Wasn't like they were obscuring his vision or anything: He was a whole head taller than most of them, with all the others barely reaching his nose. Plus, a few of them seemed mostly interested in his biceps, for some reason: He definitely wasn't imagining that someone was squeezing his arm muscle repeatedly, presumably in absolute glee that they were touching a man's arm. Like, holy fuck, it was a man's arm. An arm. Of a man. Not man with a wo in front of it. A man.

Frowning, and continuing to idly thumb at the strap on his Mossberg that was slung over his right shoulder, he managed to get to the Basilicom gate. The (obviously) female guard seemed no less amazed by him than any of the dozens that were following him. He stopped at the metal gate, the guard staring at him in seeming disbelief of his height, and looked to be contemplating using the TAR-21 clone that she had dangling in front of her torso over a WW1-era British military-looking uniform. "You as well?" Jack grunted. The woman was slightly taken aback. "You should know why I'm here." No answer. "Lady Noire should've bloody said I'd be arriving on foot." No answer. "Goddamn, that _bitch_." No answer. "...are you gonna make a fuckin' response, miss?" The woman shook her head clear and removed her gaze from his bicep. He resisted every urge to punch her through the iron bars right then and there, because then she wouldn't have opened the gate. It was almost the size of a driveway gate to Jack; To everyone else it was a huge, looming black grid of steel. "There. Wasn't so bloody hard, was it?" he grumbled, before slipping his way through the gap that the soldier had presented him with. Behind him, the metal gates closed in the faces of the hundred or so women that had followed him down the street, and he was able to get a look at the Basilicom.

It was a large building, not too far off a mansion or summer villa. In front, there was a massive fountain, plus a long pair of driveways that extended from both gates at the front of the basilicom courtyard. On top, there was a large flag with what he assumed was Leanbox's national flag. Jack stood and looked over all of this for a few moments, hand on his hip.

"'s alright, I suppose." He sniffed. "Smells a bit like gun oil."

Beginning to trudge up to the front of the building, a group of previously unseen women with rifles patrolled the stairs in front of the building. Jack was pleased to note that they were all from different countries: He recognised the Leanbox guard uniform from the woman at the gate, and the Lastation uniform from when he was being taken to the plane over to Leanbox, but the other two he assumed were the uniforms of Lowee and Planeptune. None of the soldiers were being hostile to each other: Most of them were actually enjoying cheerful conversations.

That is, until they caught sight of Jack. Instantly, they all formed up into a firing squad and steadied their aims on him. Groaning, he stood at the foot of the steps and paced side to side with his face in his hands, head tilted back. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me."

"Uh, h-halt!" one of the armed women ordered. "O-Or...w-we'll shoot!"

"I'm not even fuckin' doin' anythin'," grunted Jack. "And if I wasn't supposed to fuckin' be here, then the guard wouldn't have opened the soddin' gate, would she?" There was a pause.

"I'll need to see some credentials, sir."

"You're kiddin' me with this bullshit, right?"

"You don't have credentials?"

"I was supposed to be here with Lady Noire, but I was too big for the fuckin' car we were goin' in. So I walked through a town full of people that have never seen a fuckin' bloke before, and then have to put up with a guard tryin' to look me up and down to check me out. And now you're tellin' me I need fuckin' _credentials_? You're pushin' a fuckin' boundary, lady." The weapons remained raised, but some of the expressions were visibly shaken by the tirade. One of the women, from Lowee, looked to be on the brink of tears. Jack jabbed a finger forwards. "Yeah, you lot better be fuckin' sorry. Put up with too much shite to be fuckin' rejected. I can't be doin' with this." Just then, a window opened on the floor above, revealing a green haired woman with striking red eyes and a black bow.

"What's going on down there?" she yelled, sounding angry. "Shut the hell up! I'm trying to listen out for that new guy Lady Vert called in!"

"New guy?" Jack called back up, causing her to look at him. "Might be me you're lookin' for."

"So you're Mr...ah...gimme a second..." Briefly, the rather chipper woman disappeared from the window, then reappeared with a notepad. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you...Mr. Jack Loandone?"

"It's pronounced London!" he called back up. "And yes, I'd bloody well hope I am, or my parents lied to me!" The woman smiled.

"Alright, if you're the guy, then fine, let him in!" The green-haired woman nodded to the armed guards, who lowered their weapons and gestured to the door. "Meet me inside the lobby."

"Bloody well hope you'd have the decency to come down and meet me personally..." Jack muttered as he strode inside. The lobby honestly didn't look that different from a normal hotel foyer: A few couches to one side, a desk with a receptionist behind, plus wooden furnishings and a few other people walking around. Yet not one of them didn't cast a glance over to the behemoth of a man that had walked in. Again, they were all women. Back on Earth he'd be dying for this kind of attention. Now he had it, it was shit. He supposed that was just how the world worked as he leaned against a wall and nonchalantly withdrew his knife from his belt, twirling it through his fingers. It was a fun way to pass the time. Plus, considering the knife was from an SA80 assault rifle, it looked quite menacing: Nobody'd be fucking with him.

Unless they bought him dinner first.

Just then, the elevator (yes, elevator) to his left made a ding noise, and the woman from the window stepped out. Jack was amazed at her: She was wearing a long, flowing black dress that suited her green hair and red eyes, plus a few things here and there, but what amazed him was that the only thing covering her privates was a small, black sheet of cloth. And as he moved up her body**holy shit she had big boobs.** He avoided looking at them, and slipped the knife back into its sheath as the woman smiled almost sinfully, eyes closed as she approached. "So you're the guy I heard so much a...bout...wow." She paused, and let her arms hang limply by her sides as she looked up at him in bewilderment. "You're a big guy." Jack sighed.

"Yes, I'm aware, many people have Baneposted that about me before," he replied flatly, extending a hand. "Jack London, Englishman, trained through the combined efforts of the SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES for some shitty, overblown portal gum, and also on loan to Leanbox for the foreseeable future." The woman accepted he handshake, showing the same uncomfortable expression as Noire had when he engulfed her hand.

'_How did he pronounce that acronym?_'

"Good to meet you," she almost purred in response, flashing a grin. "My name is Chika Hakozaki. I'm the Oracle of Leanbox, and Lady Vert's right hand when it comes to matters of urgency."

"So who's her left hand?" Jack asked, pulling away the handshake. She had soft skin. She was kinda hot.

"Me." Chika announced proudly. "I'm also the feet, voice, conscience, and spleen of her government. Don't you forget it."

"No worries, I never forget a face."

"Good. Then I think we'll get along just fine. Follow me." Chika turned, and began walking back towards the elevator, and Jack followed. It looked almost amusing to see Chika, who was only five foot three, being followed by Jack, who was five foot ten. She was a good seventeen centimeters shorter than him. He was tall enough to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. But he didn't, because she'd probably take it further: Instead, he followed along behind her, and stepped inside the elevator. Chika elegantly extended a hand, and pressed one of the buttons, the door sliding gently closed and muffling all outside sounds. The pair dropped into silence, and Chika stood, looking to her left at the taller man and assessing him with partially narrowed eyes. _'Is he taller than Lady Vert? Lady Green Heart? He couldn't be. Lady Green Heart is the tallest out of anyone in Gamindustri. If he is taller, he'd better not do anything he's gonna regret._'

"Nice rack," Jack said calmly, scratching his chin. Instantly, his female companion's cheeks flushed red.

"W-What?!" she gasped.

"I complimented your rack," he repeated. Chika was taken aback, and looked down. Well...she was...proud of them. They were E's, and the clothes store had to make her tailored outfits, but she...what...what? "Those're point fifty rifles, ain't they?"

...what?

Oh.

She turned to the pair of large sniper rifles hung up in the glass case behind them, and rested an elbow on her hand. "Yes, indeed," she said, her calm voice betraying her sudden awareness of her breasts. "They were given to us by the Avenir corporation as thanks for allowing them to trade with Leanbox."

"They do a lot of damage, I suppose."

"Lady Vert fired one in the courtyard when we received them; Smashed every window in the basilicom, I was knocked out, and when I came to, Lady Vert was passionately kissing the weapon on the left."

"You were knocked out?" Jack raised a brow. "Were you alright?"

"Well, yes, I was fine, but I do get headaches every so often as a result, so I often feel faint, specifically around men." She flashed a smile up to him. "Always be on your guard, for I could fall at any moment." Jack wasn't sure if he could make any terrorist jokes or jokes about the British economy without utterly confusing the woman next to him, so he opted to nod.

"I'll, uh, keep that in mind. You don't look like you weigh much."

"You think I have a good figure?" Chika smirked. _'I wanna see how far I can push him.'_

"You're probably what people'd call a supermodel back where I'm from, and they apparently don't weigh much. Plus, considerin' the fact that you and everyone else I've met thus far are small as fuck compared to me, it just makes me feel like I'm actually tall."

"I'm considered tall for Leanbox."

"I'm average height in Britain."

"What'd be considered tall in...Britton, or however you say it?"

"Got a friend who's about six foot four. You'd barely reach his chest," Jack replied as the door slid open and the two stepped out into a nice, bright hallway. "Anyway, so there's a diplomatic meetin' goin' on here?"

"Indeed," Chika nodded quietly. "I believe it's finishing in a few minutes. From then, you'll be able to speak with Lady Vert." Just then, the door opened a crack, and the face of a woman (duh) peeped out.

"Oracle Hakozaki?" asked the woman. Chika stepped forward and raised a hand.

"Present. What is it?"

"Lady Green Heart requests the presence of Mr. Loondumb."

"This is a piss take, it's pronounced sodding _London_..." Jack muttered, scratching his stubble idly and shaking his head, stepping forward. "My cue?" he asked Chika.

"Yes," she replied calmly, before narrowing her eyes. "If anything is to happen to Lady Vert..." she trailed off. "...let's just say, you and your friend don't want anything to happen to Lady Vert." Jack nodded, but as he headed in, paused.

"...friend?" he asked back through the door. Chika was standing with her arms folded, and a brow raised, and that was all Jack saw of her before he was dragged inside by an unknown force. "WHO THE FUCK?!" he yelled. He was just about to reach for his knife when he was stood up firmly and a pair of arms gripped his biceps.

"It's me, you asshole!" James said suddenly. Jack looked back at the face of his friend, and grinned.

"JAMES, YOU FANTASTIC BASTARD!" he cried, before immediately throwing himself into a bro-hug with one of the people he'd spent a year training with and years on British streets with. He was just shorter than Jack, clocking in at about five foot seven, and had greasier brown hair. Plus, he carried the same, dark sense of humour as his close friend, which made interactions between him (_a Welsh person with a penchant for crude humour and dark jokes_) and Jack (_a part-Scottish Northerner that lived in Southern England, who took pleasure in finding ways to take the piss out of people_) that much more entertaining. He was wearing his usual get-up that he had been wearing since he graduated training; black tactical gear, heavier body armour, and a black baseball cap with a headset. Slung over his back was what looked to be an Arctic Warfare sniper rifle, folded up for easier carriage. On his lower back was an Uzi, and in his other holster on his leg was yet another Uzi. Regardless, Jack patted his long-time bro on the back. "Where the fuck were you, you wanker?"

"I was goin' around, doin' the do," James replied, patting Jack on the back as they pulled apart from their bro-hug. The four women in the room looked at them like being bros was a weird thing. "Hope you haven't been keepin' all the ladies to yourself."

"Nah, I'm a proper bloke, you of all people should know I think of my lads before the lasses." Jack turned to the goddesses. "Where was he?"

"_I_ found him in Lowee," Blanc proclaimed in a rather calm voice that betrayed her pride. She looked fairly average in her non-HDD form: Not regarding her clothes and absolutely adorable little hat, she had short brown hair and calm blue eyes. She also looked fairly young, considering both her face and...assets. "He was trying to kill an Ancient Dragon using his rifle when I stepped in and saved him. He owes me a favour." James scratched the back of his head and nodded.

"Ah, yeah, I do..." he muttered, looking back up at the smaller of the women in front of them at the table. "How'd you want that paid back, again?"

"I'll think of something," Blanc said calmly, before looking to Jack. "Remember: After your stay here in Leanbox, you'll be travelling home with me." Jack raised a brow in response, hands in his pockets.

"Fuckin' hell, you lot plan quick," he whistled. "Say, then what's James doin' while I go with you?"

"Coming with me," Blanc said flatly. Neptune sat up.

"Hey!" cried the small girl with purple hair. She couldn't have been older than twelve. "You can't just have both of them!"

"I did find him, and he does owe me a favour," replied the brown-haired girl in her eerily calm voice. She was absolutely _nothing_ like her loud, foul-mouthed HDD form, and that slightly disappointed Jack. She was fun when she was always in a bad mood. "Plus, I believe that my sisters have taken a liking to him."

"She has sisters?" Jack asked James. James grinned, and held a hand up to his waist height.

"Yeah, two: Rom, and Ram. They're fuckin'...like, small as fuck, and they're really fuckin' adorable."

"Huh. Well, I was mostly surprised when it turned out that Noir-"

"Ahem."

"...fine, Lady-_Mother-Fuckin'-Queen-Of-The-Constant-Menstruation-Cycle-Holy-Shit-Will-She-Ever-Not-Be-On-Her-Period_ Noire has a sister as well." The other goddesses stifled laughs as Noire grit her teeth. "She's called Uni, and she likes me enough."

"I assume she's _not_ a grumpy bitch like her sister?"

"Oh, you're too fuckin' right, she's not: Practically bounded up to see me this mornin', and nearly started cryin' last night when I said I was stayin' in Leanbox. Noire just stared at me and thought angry thoughts."

"For your information, I'm fantasising about how to kill yo-"

"Yeah, sure, you have fun, go get some fuckin' friends." Jack offered a shit-eating grin, and the other CPUs couldn't help but struggle to conceal laughter. Noire was gripping the table hard enough that the wood was starting to crack. Blanc was certain that her fellow goddess' teeth might crack soon, considering how much she was clenching them. James threw back his head, put one hand in front of his mouth, and pointed to Noire as he leaned back slightly.

"OH. MUGGED OFF." he yelled. Noire was nearly breaking the table.

"It's not muggin' off, it's statin' solid facts," Jack said calmly, in a tone that almost would have been serious had he not have been using it to insult Noire. "I didn't see her talkin' to anybody but her sister when I was in Lastation. Go get some friends, Lady Noire."

Only Neptune survived the explosion of rage.

_**That evening...**_

When the sun had gone down, Jack decided he would head out into the town to see what the nightlife was like. Considering how he'd dragged a rather begrudging James along, he saw no reason why there'd end up being problems: All he really needed to be careful about was not losing James, because he was only a little bit taller than most of the people he'd seen. The pair walked back down the road that Jack had come in through, with the nearby shops still lit up. It was just like day-time, somehow, except the people were still wearing summery clothes. Ignoring their looks at James' 'tacticool' apparel and Jack's 'homicidal Vietnam veteran that raided an army barracks ' clothing, the two were speaking, just like old times. "I mean, let's be honest, we're two of the few men in this world, right?" James continued.

Jack scratched his chin in response. "Ah, yeah, you're right with that, what about it?"

"Well, y'know. Two blokes. Loads of women."

"Can't see where you're goin' with this."

"Jesus Christ, did you ever _watch_ porn?"

"...hentai, or normal porn?"

"Fuckin' hell. Anyway, I'm just pointin' out that we can get a harem if we keep goin' like this." Jack grimaced, as he felt yet another camera flash go over them.

"Ain't a harem that thing where there's a shit load of girls goin' for one guy?"

"Yeah."

"Eh. Dunno. Some of these people hardly look like they've hit puberty, I'll be honest."

"What about Chika Kamikaze?"

"_Hakozaki_," Jack corrected. "And yeah, she's alright. Keeps faintin', though, and normally into my arms."

"How heavy is she?"

"Eh...think, like, medium sized dog. Golden Retriever. She has a nice face, she's quirky, and she has soft skin as well. Plus, have you seen her goddamn dress?"

"The only thing covering her undies is a small piece of fabric..." James mused. "Why don't you ask if she wants to go out on a date somewhere? See if you can get some action."

Jack winced at the comment and moved his free hand side to side. "Well, y'see, the thing is..."

"You don't like her?"

"No, no, I like her...I just...look at her. Have you noticed somethin' about the way she strides about the basilicom? With that foxy smirk, nearly twenty-four-seven?"

"Nah, I don't normally look at her eyes."

"You perverted wanker. Anyway, my point is...she...looks like she's up to something. Constantly."

"Like what?"

"That's the problem: I don't know, and it's fuckin' creepy. She flashes this weird smile as she goes past me. And she's _seriously_ obsessed with Vert."

"Who wouldn't be? Vert's a genuinely nice person."

"Indeed she is, but Chika's obsessed on a whole different level," Jack replied. The two entered a main town square, with a few restaurants open around the place and some shops still available. They paused as they felt hundreds of eyes glancing curiously to them from eating at restaurants, shopping, and generally enjoying their evenings. "How much've you got to spend?" James quickly slipped out his wallet and thumbed through a few pieces of paper.

"Eh...not much. Like, a hundred credits. You?"

"Did some side jobs in Lastation, so I've got upwards of ten thousand."

"Ten soddin' thousand?!" James gasped as Jack led the way to a nearby restaurant with outdoor seating. "Fuckin' hell, what were you doin'?"

"Ech..." Jack scratched the back of his head, thinking. "About...two counts of pest control, a few points where I helped the feds..."

"You backstabbin' arse'ole," James interrupted.

"Sod off, I didn't sell you out."

"Good."

"What else was there...? Oh, yeah, I saved a woman from a mugger. She paid me, and turned a blind eye when I started riflin' through the bloke's pockets and jacked about five grand."

"He had five grand in his pocket? Greedy cunt." The waiter (another fucking woman, goddamn) approached the two armed men cautiously, menus in hand. "Oh, hi!" James beamed. She swallowed hard.

"H-Hello..." she nearly whispered. "Uh...are you looking for an o-outside table?" Jack looked at James.

"Shall we?" James nodded in response. "Yeah, we'll go for it, outside's good." The woman in front of them paused in fear, before rapidly nodding her head.

"R-Right this way, s-sirs!" she whimpered, before quickly scampering over to a metal table with a pair of seats under an umbrella. It didn't exactly seem too foreign. Jack liked it. Thus, he offered a smile to the woman.

"Cheers, lass," he grinned. The woman paused, nodded, and quickly moved away, dropping the menus onto the table as quickly as she could. Both men looked at this for a moment in confusion. "You think this lot are scared of us?"

"Well, we're the only lads for...well, miles," James shrugged, browsing through the paper in front of him. Holy shit, there was a section labelled 'Western Food', and that's where the normal meals were. "Fuckin' hell, are we in Japan now?" Jack was squinting at the menu.

"Eh." He scanned the menu. "Fuck me sideways. They do some nice lookin' fish and chips. That's me set. You?"

"Well, shit, I dunno. Sausage and chips?"

"You go for whatever the hell you want."

"You can afford this, obviously. Don't think I can."

"No worries, I'm payin'."

"Really? You sure?"

"Yeah, why not? First meal out we've had since that one trip to the cinema a year and a bit ago. What film was it?"

"Uh..._The Avengers_, wasn't it? The one with the robot?"

"Yeah, that was it. Wasn't too bad of a film. But let's be honest: Compared to the shit they taught us to do, Black Widow and Hawkeye are some tame motherfuckers."

"Yeah, I guess." James smiled, reclining and taking a breath in as he closed his eyes. "Christ. Haven't been for a nice day out for a long time."

"It was always us two, guaranteed, every day out," Jack noted, leaning forward onto the table. He didn't notice the two noticeably eccentric women approaching them. "Then we had Josh runnin' around, tryin' to organise days out, we had Luke being awkward and not replyin' to texts, there was always some teenage drama shite goin' on...bloody hell, I miss it."

"Same here, I guess," James nodded, leaning forward again and swiping his hair out of his eyes. "But I wouldn't go back."

"Oh, hell no, neither'd I," Jack laughed. "All we'd be doin' back in England would be sittin' and watchin' telly and bein' dragged out by Josh to play _hockey_. Fuckin' girl's game, that is." He paused. Then, he looked over the decorative metal railings to his right to look at the two girls that had been standing there for about a minute. "Evenin', ladies. Can we help you?" They were certainly an interesting duo: The one in front, likely the more leader-like of the two with the same blue hair as the other, was dressed like some kind of metal-related magician. She had a black wizard hat with metal cogs looped around it, with a white coat, grey shirt, and red tie. On her feet were a pair of simple black shoes with a pair of long grey tights, and in her hand was a long staff with an assortment of gears on the end. She had blue eyes that seemed to be constantly assessing him.

And...she was assessing him.

"Lady, can I help you?" Jack repeated. The woman said nothing for a moment, and finally spoke, looking him in the eyes.

"Hmm." The woman finally stood up straight, left arm finally sweeping down to her side as her other hand stayed on her staff. She carried a slightly alarming smell of chemicals and burned things, and Jack could detect a strong aroma jasmine that emanated from her, noticeable even from where he was sitting. He wasn't certain if he should be concerned about the woman's smile, but she seemed alright. "You must be the Armed Psychopath I have heard about," she said flatly, before looking to James. "And you must be the Dragon Hunter." Jack frowned.

"...we have nicknames?" he asked. "And why's James got one that makes him sound like a folk story bloke?" The woman raised a brow.

"Are you not officially called the Armed Psychopath?" she replied. Jack stared at her in disbelief.

"Jesus Christ, no, I'm obviously not called fuckin' Armed Psychopath!" he groaned. James rubbed his chin.

"Dragon Hunter..." he smirked, testing out the title for himself. "Niiiiice..."

"Then what are your true titles?" the woman asked.

"Well, considerin' that neither I nor James know who the hell you are, it'd be better for you to answer that for us, first." The girl smiled again.

"You address the glaring issues first. I can respect that in a person, in spite of your obvious shortcomings in terms of scientific knowledge." She straightened up. "My name is MAGES., but some call me the Mad Magician." Jack raised a brow.

"I guess MAGES. isn't the weirdest name I've heard thus far," he said calmly. The woman smiled.

"At least you can pronounce my name correctly."

"What, there's people who can't say MAGES.?"

"Indeed. It is a common error made by new acquaintances. You are one of the few who has correctly said my name on the first try."

"Some people just have no respect for periods. My name's Jack London." He extended a hand to shake, which MAGES. firmly shook.

"Mr. London, I am pleased to finally meet you in the flesh." Jack smiled, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, you returned the respect for my name. First time anyone here's said it first try." MAGES. frowned slightly.

"I find distress in the knowledge that people cannot pronounce the word London," she replied.

"Indeed. So, if you don't mind my askin': What brings you here?"

"I was on an evening out with my sister, Lyrica," MAGES. explained, gesturing to the shy-looking girl behind her. She was noticeably different to her sister, with a black sports bra, black skirt with a pink-buckled belt, long tights, and an assortment of bangles. In comparison to MAGES.' non-styled hair, Lyrica had hers set into a dual parting at the front, with a long blue ponytail beneath a pair of headphones. Her magenta irises were noticeably darting around: It was clear she didn't like talking to people. MAGES. looked back, looking slightly troubled. "It is not often we get to see each other, as she's normally on tour."

"On tour?" James interjected, raising a brow. "What, she's a band member or somethin'?"

MAGES. nodded. "She's a singer. Her stage name is-"

"5-5pb.," Lyrica said quietly, rubbing her arm and looking down slightly. The six eyes that suddenly turned to look at her clearly alarmed the frightened girl, who shrank slightly under the gazes of two armed men and her sister. "Oh...um...s-sorry for interrupting you, sis..." MAGES. offered a gentle smile, clearly practiced over years of having 5pb for a sister.

"Don't worry, Lyrica," she replied calmly. "I'm glad you're starting to speak up." James smiled.

"Now I'm interested;" he said, leaning forward. "How many showed to your last gig?" 5pb. winced under the gaze, and rubbed her arm nervously.

"Oh, o-only seven hundred thousand..." she sighed. Jack sat up immediately.

"Holy hell!" he spurted. "Seven hundred fuckin' thousand?! You must be bloody good at singin'!" 5pb. broke into a fluster, scratching the back of her head.

"Um. I guess...heh...thank you...?"

"Now may I ask what you two outlanders are doing in Leanbox at this time?" MAGES. asked Jack.

"Eh," he shrugged. "I'm on loan to all the goddesses. The diplomatic meetin' today was the changeover from me bein' in Lastation to me bein' in Leanbox, and then I found out that James was here as well."

James raised a hand. "'Sup."

"So now we're gettin' food so we can catch up. Haven't had a proper day out into a town for over a year."

"A year?" MAGES. raised a brow.

"Yup. A year's worth of SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES trainin' with no freedom in the middle of a desert surrounded by criminals, ex-police, army guys, and people that'd blindly follow the criminals. Pretty sure if we went anywhere, someone'd try and kill us." Jack explained. MAGES. nodded thoughtfully, leaning on her staff.

"That does not seem as if it would be good for your health." Jack smirked at the comment, and stood up, MAGES. looking no less emotional than she did a moment before. 5pb. looked more alarmed, shrinking slightly at the massive and imposing figure of Jack.

"You kiddin'?" he laughed, flexing his muscles and patting his torso. "Got enough firepower here to stop a fuckin' tank." MAGES. and 5pb. grew noticeably flustered, with a few women around the town square stopping to look, and grow flustered as well. James rolled his eyes.

"Twat..." he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"I-I must say, y-you have impressive physique," MAGES. stuttered. "But regardless, such an environment couldn't possibly...have helped...uh..." She paused, and coughed. "Oculd you please stop flexing?"

"What?" Jack grinned. "I'm bein' distractin'?"

"Yes. Wait, no. Um. Please stop." Shrugging, Jack sat himself down, and town square life returned to normal, but with a new topic of conversation.

"You overly-muscular prick..." James muttered. "Why'd you spend time at the gym as much as you did? Were you fuckin' _expectin'_ to show off in front of a wizard and a pop star?"

"Depends," Jack replied flatly, checking his watch. "Did my showin' off work?" MAGES. glared at him.

"I don't want to answer."

Just before James could make a snide remark, there was the sudden sound of tyres screeching across the town square, as well as people screaming. A black van had pulled up outside the bank just over the square, and as the doors slid open, Jack and James already knew what the hell was going on. A group of white-suited and blue-shirted men leapt from the back of the van, clutching a variety of weapons and equipment ranging from AK-47 rifles to M249 machine guns, and all of them were wearing the same look of determination. A loud burst of gunfire rang out from one of the two men that had split off from the main group, prompting many of the women in the area to scream in terror. A second later, the second man had fired his AK at the police officer that was running towards them, arcs of blood trailing from ragged holes in her body as she slammed into the ground. "_**All of you, down! NOW!**_" yelled the man with the smoking gunbarrel as he aimed his weapon all around. Jack leaned forwards and grabbed 5pb. and MAGES. by their collars, pulling them over the railings to take cover behind a large plant pot.

That's when it clicked.

Jack knew those guys.

"James," Jack said quickly, grabbing his shotgun from its leaning position on the rail. "You remember all those Russians in the training camp?"

"Yeah, those mobsters that were on death row or somethin', right?" James replied sharply, unfolding his AW rifle's stock and chambering a round, before putting an Uzi in his hand.

"And now they've been sent to another civilization, armed with whatever weapons they want. Nothin's stoppin' them."

"Except us?" James asked.

"Except us." Jack grinned back, climbing into a crouch and slinging his shotgun. He unbuttoned his holster, and withdrew his Skorpion. "You ready for a little police brutality, mate?"

James racked the bolt on his Uzi, slinging his prepared AW over his back and grinning in a way that'd get him sectioned back on Earth. "Let's get some homicide done."

Before MAGES. or 5pb. could say anything, James and Jack vaulted the rail, weapons forward towards the Russian mobsters.


	5. On Par With Churchill Himself

Both Jack and James put their weapons into a two-handed grip, pointing them at the mobsters in a slight crouch-walk. "Hey!" Jack called out. The first of the two, armed with the AK, turned in curiosity, and prepared to aim his rifle at Jack. "Don't even think about it, dick'ead!" Jack kept his gun pointed at the gangster as the second man tried to bring his shotgun to bear. James already had it covered.

"Don't try it: I'll hit you first!" yelled the Welshman. The two gangsters had their guns in relatively the same positions, pointing 45° towards the ground but just tense enough that they could bring them up and gun down Jack and James. There was a pause, and Jack could hear a few women whispering things down their phones nearby. Jack kept his Skorpion aimed dead at the forehead of the bald, middle-aged man with the AK.

"Drop your guns, and get down on the ground!" he ordered. The mobsters just cast brief glances to each other and laughed.

"What are you?" the bald one asked in a thick Russian accent, "Fucking teenagers?"

"Oi!" Jack shot back. "That's our shtick for this story! We're the ones that swear most of the fuckin' time! Shut your dirty Commie mouth, drop your gun, and get on the fuckin' ground!" The Russian didn't make any moves, instead keeping up a shit-eating smirk.

"What, you going to tell your Momma?" he laughed. "Get her to come and tell me off? I've already fucked your mother, asshole!"

"Didn't know she went for the mentally and facially challenged," Jack replied sharply. "Final warning, drop your guns, get on the floor!" The other man laughed.

"Or what, you little fuck?" he snorted, once again in a Russian accent. "You won't do shit! We trained like you did, and we did it better!" The man with the AK nodded.

"These little bastards don't have the balls to shoot us!" he said suddenly, jabbing the other Russian as they both laughed. He then looked back at Jack and James...but seemed to be looking through them.

More accurately, past them, at MAGES. and 5pb..

"Those are your ladies, no?" asked the first robber, shifting his AK barrel up slightly to gesture to the women. "I will shoot them, and you can't do shit about it, because you are only a child."

"You wanna test that fuckin' theory?" Jack growled, nudging James. "Moment I pull the trigger, kill yours. Not sooner." James, cautiously, nodded. The Russian relaxed slightly, and stood up.

"Vlasky, watch," he grinned, bumping his fellow Communist on the shoulder and prompting him to relax as well. "I will hit the girl with the stupid hat through the big asshole's leg."

"Try it, cunt."

The white-suited Russian laughed, before raising his AK and taking his time in careful aim. Finally, he rested on one position, closed his left eye, and-

His head snapped back with the impact of several point thirty-two caliber bullets, his finger pulling the trigger on the AK in reflex and causing a shot to fire straight into Jack's shin. Had he not have been wearing a ballistic shin-guard, his leg would have broken, so instead his foot was swept from under him and threw him to the floor with a grunt of surprise. A half second later, before the other Soviet could react, James had already held down his Uzi's trigger and put five rounds into the shotgun-wielding thug's chest, knocking him straight off his feet and onto his back. He dropped his gun and began clutching his injured chest, rolling around. The hoodlum with the AK that was still staggering and rubbing his forehead from the repeated shots shook his head a few times, barely noticing that his friend was down. How he survived the bullets, Jack didn't know, but he took his chance: He got up and began to sprint straight over to the man, throwing his Skorpion into his left hand as he went, before jumping up and delivering a roundhouse kick to the man's face. The satisfying crack of the gangster's jaw, coupled with his grunt of pain, made Jack feel like it would be kickass in slow motion, especially the bit where the mobster span, fell, and landed on his face on the tiles. James had followed suit, running straight over to the other gangster and kicking his shotgun away, keeping the Uzi pointed at him.

Jack breathed heavily for a moment, slipping his Skorpion away. Then, he started shaking his right foot, wiping the spatter of blood onto the back of his jeans. "Didn't matter that I'm a fuckin' teenager, eh?" he grinned down at the unconscious suited thug. Then, he turned to James. "Holy shit, did you see that? I was fuckin' awesome." James looked up and smirked.

"Yeah, you were like a...uh, what're they called? Fuckin'...Sam Fisher blokes from PAYDAY..."

"A Cloaker? Yeah, I fuckin' WAS! I had his DLC _right fuckin' here_!" Jack whooped, gesturing to his boot. It was then that a woman let out a small cheer, and clapped. On her own, at first: But then it got to the point where the crowds of women stood up and started to applaud the justice they'd just watched getting dished out in size eleven portions. Jack and James, not knowing what to do, looked at each other and shrugged. "At least we're gettin' recognized," he mused. "C'mon, let's take these guys' shit."

As the first sets of police cars rolled in to deal with the bank robbery, Jack and James began to walk back to the basilicom. Jack was clutching the double-barrel that he'd taken from the second mobster, and in a new holster he had strapped to his leg was nothing else but a shiny silver Desert Eagle handgun. James narrowed his eyes at them, still fiddling with the AK's sights. "Why'd you get the cool stuff?" he muttered.

"Well, when we were trainin'," Jack began, "I think I remember that you called the Desert Eagle a 'heavy, impractical, massive lump of shite that doesn't fuckin' work'. I was just takin' somethin' I knew you wouldn't want."

"You could have fuckin' asked, at least."

"You're one to talk: Now you've got a pair of Berettas. Who are you, fuckin' Max Payne?"

"Might as well be," James smirked as they approached the back gate of the basilicom. The gate guard, after a moment, opened it and let the two into the garden. "Hey, what time is it?" Jack checked his watch.

"Half nine," he said calmly. "We didn't miss our curfew."

"We had a curfew?"

"Probably."

"Heh. We also missed out on gettin' somethin' to eat." Jack paused as they stood on the patio at the back of the basilicom.

"You're fuckin' right." He sighed and rubbed his forehead, before stomping his foot. "Bollocks."

"My, my," a sudden, familiar voice piped up. "That isn't the behaviour I expected to see from a national treasure." Jack and James looked up to see Chika sat at a table with a glass of wine, wearing her rather stunning dress. She was smiling at the both of them. James looked at her, then at Jack.

"Uh..." he began, scratching his head. "I'll...leave you two to do whatever it is you two do." With that, the greasy-haired sniper walked through the double doors into the basilicom, and headed upstairs to his assigned guest room. However, rather than understanding that Chika was trying to be charming, Jack listened to the strange voice in his head telling him to be awkward.

"What're you goin' on about, 'national treasure'?" he asked flatly. Chika kept her grin, and kicked a chair out from under the table towards him. "I booted some knob'ead straight in the teeth and he dropped like a fuckin' stone, so if what you've got to say sounds better than that Soviet cunt groaning as his teeth flew out, go on ahead." Chika, sipping some wine, let out a small giggle.

"Have a seat. I'm sure you'll like what I've got to say," she purred. After a moment of Jack looking at her alarmingly crimson irises, he reached down and put his new double-barrelled shotgun against the table edge, and unslung his Mossberg and leaned that beside the other shotgun. Then, he sat in the chair, causing it to creak loudly, before exhaling and looking at Chika once more. He was still looking down on her, even when she was sat on a chair that was on a step. "So: From what the news is saying, as well as a number of eyewitness reports, _you_ helped to stop a bank robbery."

"Me and James did, yeah," he corrected. "So?"

"As far as the public is concerned, you two are heroes," Chika continued, pouring out another glass of wine and pushing it towards him. "And to consider that you work for Lady Green Heart, well! I'd say that's a healthy boost to our shares, wouldn't you?" Jack kept looking at her with narrowed eyes and a frown, before looking down at the table.

"I wouldn't know," he replied. "I don't know what 'Shares' are. I don't know why you lot were at war in the first place. I don't know how that Russian twat survived some bullets to the face. I don't even know if I was supposed to get involved in all of this shite. All James and I were meant to do was collect plants and samples of life from this place, then fuck off back home to show the government. Same goes for that gang of Eastern European thugs. They just managed to get into crime within a few days of arrivin'."

"So the people who sent you here let you wear casual clothes, and bring random weapons with you?" Chika asked calmly, sipping her wine with an unreadable expression. "Certainly, plant collecting seems to be all there is to your mission." Jack shook his head.

"Like I said: I don't know. As far as I know, you, the goddesses, my trainin', all this, it's a dream. Could easily be just me sleepin', and I'll wake up and go to work like nothin' ever happened. But it might not be."

"Then why continue if it were real?" Chika didn't even raise a brow. She kept her unreadable poker face on. "Your government must have wanted you here for a reason. Perhaps because they wanted to be rid of you. So why continue? When you arrived, why did you not simply let yourself fall from Celestia?" Jack looked dead at her.

"Are you sayin' you want me to kill myself?" Chika suddenly realised exactly what she had said, and her eyes went wide.

"Oh, goodness, I apologize," she sputtered, flushing red and putting a hand to her chest, "That must be the alcohol talking! Of course, that's not what I'm suggesting. What I'm asking is why you carry on...doing what it is you're doing."

"It's an adventure. Back on Earth, nothin' happened. The excitin' stuff happened overseas, or to everyone else. I lived in a washed up old town outside London, where everyone was too old to do anythin' interestin'. So when I saw the chance to go somewhere else...somewhere _excitin'_...it may not have seemed like a real deal, but it was. It was an adventure. And now here I am, in a far-off kingdom, watchin' over peace talks between the four female versions of Jesus, stoppin' bank robberies, fightin' monsters, and now I'm tellin' my life story to some exotic woman that faints all the time." Jack leaned back, breathed in, and smiled. "Fuck me, I never thought my life'd get to be this interestin'." Chika looked at him, nodding and smiling.

"Fair enough," she mused, before pouting. "And why haven't you had any of that wine yet? I poured it especially for you." Jack waved a dismissive hand, looking over the city behind them as the moon began to rise over it, illuminating Leanbox in a bright silver glow.

"Nah, I don't drink," he said calmly. "I've heard enough of people's exploits under alcohol to know I'm not fuckin' touchin' it. No offense, of course." Chika frowned, and rolled her eyes.

"More for me, then..." she muttered. For a few minutes, the two sat in silence, simply looking over the city. "It certainly is a beautiful sight, would you agree?" Jack nodded.

"I bet you any money that I could blow up that cat from here if I had a fifty caliber sniper rifle," he quipped, pointing out to the city. Chika could hardly make out individual people, let alone an animal, so she simply looked at her taller, male companion in confusion.

"How did you even see there was a ca-?"

"Apologies if I'm interrupting anything," came a sudden, softly spoken voice. At the sound of it, Chika immediately stood up, smiled, and curtseyed, before glaring daggers at Jack until he did the same. Grinding his bones into an upright position, Jack stood up from the small chair and finally managed to get off a bow.

"L-Lady Vert!" Chika said suddenly. "Y-You're not interrupting anything! W-We were just talking about Mr. LANdumb's recent exploits in stopping the bank robbery downtown. Y-You're m-more than welcome to join, my Lady! If you want to, that is!"

"For fuck's sakes, how many times do I need to say that it's pronounced 'London'?!" he cried. "Christ, I miss MAGES. already." He decided to take a look at Lady Vert, since he hadn't really seen too much of her since moving into the basilicom.

And, as with most who met Lady Green Heart, the first things he noticed were her sad-looking, but friendly, blue eyes.

Also, the fact that she had _stonking_ massive tits. They were bigger than her bloody head. They were even more inviting than her eyes, if Jack was being honest with himself.

Perverted thoughts aside, Jack had to say she didn't look too unfriendly. Not like Lady Noire did, with her gothic black clothes and 'I'm gonna fucking eat you' face. On the contrary; Lady Vert didn't look too different from a regular twenty year old woman, with braided blonde hair, warm facial features and elegant green dress. However, the dress was rather revealing in places, so Jack was making sure his eyes didn't wander. Her white-gloved hands were clasped together in front of her as she calmly walked towards Chika and Jack, before gently smiling at the two. "Thank you for your mannerisms, as always, Oracle Hakozaki," came Vert's calm voice. She turned to face Jack. "And I appreciate yours all the more, considering you're soon to be a national hero." Jack resisted the urge to groan, before shifting from his chair.

"No worries," he replied flatly, "Oh, you can have my chair, I'll get another one." Vert paused, before smiling as Jack went over to another table and took one of the spare chairs, bringing it back to sit next to Chika.

"Thank you, Mr. Lonesome," she said gently. "And you have my undying gratitude for stopping those robbers earlier."

"That was both me and James who did that," Jack pointed out, sitting himself down. "Plus, we only stopped two. What happened to the rest?"

"Police showed up, and an agent of Leanbox's SMD brought them down," Chika replied coolly, before sliding Jack's glass of wine over to Lady Vert. "He doesn't drink."

"Oh...I hope you don't mind...?" Vert trailed off, looking up at Jack's more imposing figure.

"Not at all," he said, giving the universal 'go ahead' gesture. "Never touched alcohol, never will. Anyway, if you don't mind me askin', what's the SMD?"

"Special Missions Department," Chika replied. "They carry out missions that we don't want to risk police or guild involvement in."

"So like MI6 and the CIA?"

"...I'm afraid I don't follow," Vert said calmly.

"They sort out things that the public shouldn't know about. Arms dealin', terrorism, that sort of thing." Vert nodded calmly.

"Oh." There was silence. Vert and Chika had some wine. Jack scratched his face a bit. "So...I'm certain you'll be popular around Leanbox for the time you're here."

"Will I?" Jack asked.

"Certain of it," Vert smiled. "Those two robbers attacked a policewoman and tried to steal from a public bank. Furthermore, people have made claims that you two stepped up to defend the idol 5pb. and her sister. Since she's so well loved in the public eye, anybody who looks after 5pb. is certain to be popular with the people."

"Huh." Jack rubbed a bit of dirt off his right forearm's ballistic guard. "But what're these 'Shares' that people kept saying would go up?" Vert sipped some wine and smiled.

"Certainly, let me explain," she began. "As goddesses, our power comes from Shares. Shares are the energy of our people's belief and appreciation towards each of us as goddesses, and each goddess has a constantly fluctuating amount of Shares."

"And it fluctuates because people start givin' a shit or stop givin' a shit about a goddess?" Jack asked. Vert considered this, then nodded.

"If...you put it so crudely, sure. That's a basic explanation of how Shares work." She paused. "If...you don't mind me asking, which goddess do you believe in?" Jack, suddenly caught in the headlights, thought quickly.

"Eh..." he mused, scratching his chin, "I'd...probably say...all of you, I guess?"

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," Vert giggled. "Were you to pick out one goddess to be your favourite, who would it be?"

"Well...I haven't really got to know all of you, yet. I know that Lady Blanc is small, angry, and swears a lot, but we get on fairly well. Then there's Lady Noire, who doesn't _exactly_ like people, but had some weird interest in the ammunition for my shotgun, plus her sister seemed to like me for some reason. Then there's you, Lady Vert. All I can gather about you is that you deeply care about your people, and never look genuinely upset." He paused. "And I don't know shit about Purple Heart."

"Oh..." Vert frowned, looking out over the city with a troubled expression. Jack looked at this.

"Tell you what, Lady Vert," he smirked, "Ask me that again once I've spent proper time with each of you goddesses. Then I can give you a good answer." Vert and Chika cast glances to him.

"Are you certain that's a good plan?" Chika inquired, raising a brow.

"Yeah, it is. By then, I'd've gotten to know you all better, and I'd be able to have a less biased view."

"Biased? Are you biased as of now?" Vert frowned.

"Depends. Lady Black Heart did bring me down first-"

"She elbowed me in the ribs." Vert pouted.

"-and looking after Uni was pretty fun-"

"You realise she's only about seventeen, right?" Chika said flatly.

"-plus there was also the added point that she's actually an alright lass once you get to know her, so as of right now I owe her one."

"For what?"

"Pullin' me away from you lot, of course!" Jack laughed. "You, Purple Heart, and White Heart were practically tryin' to pull my arms off to get me to go with you, all for your own purposes, so Black Heart swoopin' in and rescuin' me from your metal claw fingers was genuinely great." Vert, awkwardly, scratched the back of her head and chuckled.

"Yes...I rather was set on having you make some speeches around the country," she smiled, before looking back at her taller male companion. "Speaking of which, would you be available, within the next few days, to make one of the speeches I asked of you?"

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "Why, you got anythin' particular you want me to yell about?" He paused. "I'm not too knowledgeable about Gamindustri's politics, unless you want me to compare Lady Purple Heart to Nigel Farage, and that'd be annoyin', because she's not racist and doesn't go to the pub all the time." Jack raised a mock glass of what Vert assumed was alcohol, and put on a serious expression. "_Ban the burka; Bring back Freddo Frogs,_" he said in a strange, slightly deep voice, before grinning and mock sipping a pint, then dropping his facade. "What a fuckin' twat." Chika sat up, and shifted in her seat a bit.

"I have no idea what you're going on about."

"Didn't expect you to, sorry," Jack smirked. "But, sure, I can do a speech. Just not doin' well in the politics department." Vert smiled and nodded.

"Indeed! Sometimes I don't do well in that field myself: So many parties, trade unions, and such like. So all I'd be looking for is for you to make a speech to...raise spirits."

"Raise spirits?"

"Yes."

"How do I raise fuckin' spirits? You're askin' an English lad to raise spirits. You're tellin' one of the most misogynistic bastards for miles around to give a speech to lighten the mood."

"Ouch," Vert winced. "Don't put yourself down like that, I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Well, Churchill did OK. I think. And...so did Hitler, but he's not the best role model for what he did _outside_ public speaking. Anyway, sure, I'll give it a shot."

Vert was now reconsidering her plan.

_**Two days later...**_

"Jesus soddin' Christ!" Jack cried, peeking out from behind the curtains at the side of the stadium that overlooked one hundred, maybe two hundred thousand people. He turned to face Vert who was standing beside him, calm as ever, gently smiling and watching the backstage staff running around sorting things out. Finally, Jack turned to her. "How the fuck did you sort this out so quick?"

"As a goddess, I have ways," she smiled back. "And that doesn't bring into account that this counts as part of a campaign for Shares-boosting. Jack looked at her blankly.

"...right. So...what do I say? Is there somethin' bad goin' on that I need to cheer them up about?" Vert thought for a moment.

"The recent crime wave by those mobsters could be a good thing to touch upon," she noted. "They have been terrorizing the public for a few days now."

"I thought you'd arrested all of those twats?"

"Turns out that wasn't all of them. The ones we caught made it _quite_ clear to us that they had friends willing to help them out."

"I'm sure they did," Jack whistled, stepping back behind stage and patting the handgun strapped to his right thigh. "But their friends can't resurrect the fuckin' dead, now, can they?" His Mossberg, double-barrel and Skorpion were on a table nearby, with a guard under strict orders to make sure nobody even touched them. However, the Desert Eagle remained strapped to his leg, mostly because he liked the extra weight in his steps that body armour plates just couldn't provide. Vert shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm...not sure we'll need to take such drastic measures..." she trailed off, before shaking her head and looking at a nearby clock. "You're almost up." Jack raised his brows briefly and scratched at his stubble again.

"Well, this'll be fun," he muttered. "Say, where's James gone to?"

"He said he was going for a walk," Chika replied from just over the room, checking over a clipboard with a rather dull expression. "Didn't say where, though, but his curfew is still in effect."

For some reason, Jack wasn't exactly comforted by her words. "I'm sure it is." He wasn't exactly too fond when it came to remembering a disastrous trip to Camden Market with Josh, Luke, James, and a few others: By the end of it, Luke was high, Josh was in the process of getting high after eating a 'brownie', James was using the money they'd paid him for the 'stuff' to pay for train tickets, and Jack could remember that there was an overwhelming smell of marijuana that day.

Camden was a fun place, but not really fun when one of your friends drugs the rest of your friends.

Nevertheless, Vert began to usher him to the edge of the stage again, standing him next to the green curtains and then, after retrieving it from a passing technician, turned him to face her, clipped a microphone receiver to the back of his belt, and an earpiece to his head. Jack stared blankly at all of it for a second or two, then looked down at Vert as lighting and music began blaring to the crowds. "Now, remember what I said;" she said in a way that seemed remarkably similar to a mother telling her child what to do on a school sports event. "You just need to fill ten minutes of their time with some public speaking. We've made sure that any younger minds in the audience are OK with your...vulgarities, but don't go overboard with them. Just tell them how you, an outsider, view Leanbox. And keep it positive. _Please._" Jack nodded with his usual disinterested expression.

"Alright, let's get this shit rollin'," he said calmly. A technician quickly came over, flicked the switch on his microphone receiver, and the headset in his ear buzzed into life.

"_Alright, you're on, Mr. Loafbun,_" a voice crackled, "_Head out in three; two; one._" Ignoring the blatantly half-arsed attempt at pronouncing his name, Jack put both his hands free of his pockets, and proudly marched out onto the stage. The reaction was instant: The crowd's cheering raised up as he stepped into their view, a few banners and such like waving in the audience with the Leanbox flag on them. Giving a few waves and flashing grins to the thousands awaiting his address, Jack stepped right up to the microphone stand in the center of the stage, disconnecting it from the stand and flicking it on. This was the prompt that the audience needed to start dying down with the cheering. He smiled, placed his left hand in his pocket, and began pacing with the wireless microphone.

"Well, well, WELL!" he chuckled into the mic, his voice exploding around the arena. "Certainly didn't expect this great of a turnout, I'll tell you that much! I was expectin'...maybe one or two thousand, I'll give it that, but this?" He gestured to the seats full of people all around the stadium. "This is bloody ridiculous! Didn't think you could fit this many people into one stadium 'til I came here." He paused, and smiled again, before stepping back to cross the stage again. "But do you lot know where you stand right now?" There was a murmur amongst the audience. "You stand in the Leanbox Grand Stadium. Not just any of the 'Grand Stadiums' that're kickin' about Gamindustri! This, lads, is the _**Leanbox**_ Grand Stadium!" A cheer arose. "And I'm thinkin' that's why it's called THE Grand Stadium, all over Gamindustri! This is one of the talkin' points of Leanbox! A pinnacle in advanced architecture and plannin'! And dare I even say this is a complete _counter_ to the common misconception that Planeptune and Lastation are Gamindustri's centres of advancement!" The cheering increased again. "Not pointin' any fingers, or namin' any names, but we know exactly who we can thank for givin' the authority needed to build this bloody great big 'Screw You' to Lastation and Planeptune, don't we?" The audience let out a simultaneous cry.

"**Lady Green Heart!**"

"Lady goddamn Green Heart, that's who!" Jack cried, punching the air to the audience. "In-friggin'-deed! She's the top dog of this place; The one who puts her ass on the line, into the firin' range of modern politics, so that we can all enjoy our lives to the fullest extent that we can squeeze from our years! Without her, where'd we be now? Still livin' in some half-arsed industrial revolution like Lastation? Some Big Brother state like Planeptune? Some blizzard-ravaged array of fields and mountains like Lowee? Dare I say that Leanbox would be a shithole?"

"**No!**"

"Exactly! And you know why I can't say that?"

"**Why?**"

"Because regardless of who's in charge, Leanbox is made for the people, _by_ the people, and you are all goddamned fantastic people, if I can give an outsiders' opinion!" A cheer arose yet again. "Just as proof of how fantastic Leanbox is, let's bring it about to those..._'gangsters'_ that had the balls to try and rob the Leanbox Downtown Bank!" A series of booing and hisses came from the captivated audience, as a screen behind Jack flashed with the mug shot images of the Russian mobsters that had attacked the bank a few days before. Jack gave his own input, pointing a downward thumb to the audience and jabbing the mic towards the scrolling images, a mock look of disapproval on his face. "Yeah, load of ugly bastards, am I right in sayin' that?" he asked. A loud chorus of approval came from the thousands present. Just then, Jack looked back at the images, quickly bringing his mic up again. "Stop! Image bloke, stop scrollin', hold it on that one!" The technician behind stage, not knowing what else to do, stopped scrolling through the mug shots and stopped on the image of a bald man with a massive gash on the left side of his face and a group of three large red dots on his forehead. Jack walked to the back of the stage and pointed to the bloodied side of the man's face. "You see that gash?" he asked the audience, who yelled out their acknowledgement. "I gave him that gash, as a permanent reminder that you screw with a small bit of Leanbox, you screw with ALL of Leanbox, and Leanbox comes in a pair of size elevens!" To punctuate, Jack ran forward, and gave a rapid airborne spin-kick, much to the audience's delight. Standing up, Jack gestured his thanks, giving a small bow. "Now it's pretty bloody clear: I'm gonna have a few of this bloke's mates comin' after me." Jack paused, gesturing a hand to his face. "After all, who could resist this handsome mug?" The audience laughed as Jack continued to pace. "And sure, they'll come in full force to try and get me back for kickin' his arse to the tiles. But y'know why they're gonna fail?" He stepped to the front of the stage. "Because these stupid blokes with a few guns goin' against Leanbox is like attackin' a dragon with a stick! We're the bloody dragon, and we can roast whatever the hell comes our way, am I right in sayin' that?"

Once again, the audience cheered in approval of the constant praising of Leanbox. "Indeed I would be, because as an outsider to Leanbox...no, Gamindustri as a whole! I'm an Englishman, but born as a Scot, I look at you all as a Scotsman would, and you know what I see? I see a proud army of a great people; Immovable objects alone, and an unrelentin' force together! Now THAT is what makes Leanbox the glitterin' pinnacle of progress!" The crowd's cheers exploded into a deafening roar as Jack spread his arms wide to the people, mock saluting the thousands of camera flashes. As he did so, he flicked his eyes to his watch.

'_Ten minutes? Fuckin' hell, that was rapid. Think it worked, though._'

Keeping his smile up, Jack clipped the microphone back onto its stand, and continued waving to people as he made his way off the stage.

And the moment he stepped into the dark backstage, he went right over to Vert, who was smiling, and Chika, who was staring at him in disbelief. "There: That wasn't too bad, was it?" he asked calmly, face not showing a hint of emotion. But before he could react, Vert had already stepped forward and started hugging him so tight that even his kevlar was starting to crush him.

"_Th-Thank you..._" she whispered, shifting against his torso with a dampness soaking across his shirt. Great. Now she was crying. "_Thank you so much...my Share energy hasn't felt this great for years..._" Jack, not knowing what else to do, reached a hand behind Vert and steadily patted her on the back.

"It's...uh, OK, I suppose?" he said in as calming a way as he could muster, using his other hand to give thumbs up to the crowd of technicians and backstage staff that were rushing over to congratulate him. "Oh...uh...Lady Vert?"

"Yes?"

"Not being perverted or anythin', but my arm's kind of stuck in your boobs."


	6. Area Transition

"Jack?" James asked suddenly. The masses of eyes on the walk back to the basilicom that happily observed the two, and Jack's arm still smelling of Vert's chest, were indicative that Jack's on-the-spot load of bullshit in his speech had actually had some positive effect. Jack turned to his slightly shorter companion.

"Aye?" he responded, raising his head from the patch of ground in front of him that he'd been staring at as he walked.

"Do you think the people in Leanbox like us?"

There was a pause, and Jack gave a slightly indecisive side to side tilt of his head. "I think we're fairly well appreciated," Jack nodded. "Why?"

"Oh...ah, just wonderin'." James suddenly continued looking back towards the Basilicom gate at the end of the street, where Lady Vert's chauffeured limousine was pulling in. Jack kept an assessing gaze on James.

Was something wrong?

Maybe there was.

Did he piss off James?

He hadn't really done anything to.

Maybe it had something to do with James going for that walk earlier as Jack had been making his speech.

Maybe...

Eh.

All he knew for certain was that Lady Vert thoroughly appreciated all the shit he had come up with on the spot, and it meant that he had fulfilled all he needed to do whilst he was in Leanbox. Stop Communist bank robbers, done. Pretend to be a more banterific version of Hitler in front of a crowd, done. Answer Lady Vert's (noticeably few) questions about Earth, done. Try to figure out how none of his guns would run out of ammo, nowhere even remotely close to completion.

Oh well.

Onto Lowee, after they'd gathered their rather few belongings from the basilicom: James' rucksack full of survival gear, James' copy of Mein Kampf that he had deemed necessary to bring on an interdimensional expedition, Jack's double-barrel, Jack's Skorpion, and Jack's satchel full of specimens and his spare Skorpion. Yep. He was definitely gonna have some shit to show those science nerds that sent him to Gamindustri, even if it meant he dragged Blanc back with him and let her swear at the president a bunch.

Yeah, fuck you, Obama. Fuck you and your...fucking...magic...portal...school science project. You'd probably get a C, lower grades than the napalm biscuits and the baking soda assault rifle.

By the time Jack had stopped with his exposition-displaying thought process, the pair had reached the front door of the basilicom, where, as usual, Chika stood in the door frame, awaiting their return. She flashed her usual smile. "You two get slower every day." James just gave her the finger as he walked past, whilst Jack opted to slow down so she could walk alongside him. The two had become fairly good friends since he had arrived a few days before, so he didn't really mind the confused glances he got from people that realised he was absolutely colossal compared to Chika, who barely reached his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he laughed, "I forgot that we big people look slow to you little people." His green-haired companion rolled her eyes.

"Yes, you made it very clear that you can pick me up and put me on your shoulders. Hilarious."

"Well, yeah, for the staff, anyway. Also, you don't weigh much. I could carry you anywhere with no complaints." Chika laughed loudly as they stepped into the elevator together.

"Yeah, into battle, with you as my trusty steed!" Without warning, she reached back and slapped Jack's backside after the door had closed. "Hi-ho Mr. Trombone; Away!" Jack wasn't even marginally upset by the slap on the arse. Chika wasn't even marginally embarassed as she stood, grinning. He turned to her, frowning.

"You people make no fuckin' effort when it comes to my name, do you?" he sighed dejectedly. "Fuck's sake, how hard can it be?"

"It's really not," Chika said smartly, folding her arms.

"Then say Lunn."

"Lunn."

"Dun."

"Dun."

"Lunn. Dun."

"Lunn. Dun."

"London."

"Lonesome."

"FUCK'S SAKE!" Jack yelled, raising his arms in exasperation as Chika concealed laughs, the two walking towards the guest room Jack had been assigned.

"I-It's not my fault!" she laughed. "I just can't pronounce your name! It's difficult!"

"You were doin' it perfectly fuckin' fine a minute ago! How fuckin' hard can it be to say 'London'?!" Jack groaned. "Plus, you all keep callin' me fuckin' 'Lonesome', like I've got no fuckin' mates." Chika shrugged slightly as he opened his bedroom door and stepped inside to the rather simple room. Bed, window, dresser, chair, wardrobe. That was all.

"I suppose it does fit you as of right now," she smiled, looking at her nails and leaning in his doorframe, watching him go to his wardrobe and open it. Inside, leaned against the back of the empty wooden container, was the double-barreled shotgun that he had commandeered several days before, and hanging from one of the coat hangers were the leather holsters for his Skorpion and its magazines. Completely disregarding Chika's presence behind him, he undid his belt and began to attach the gun holsters to it.

"And by that you mean...?" he replied.

"Well, you are Lonesome. The Lone Ranger. Stopping bank robberies, making speeches, defusing deity wars...you, Mr. Lonesome, are an A-list action movie hero." The Oracle paused, smiling. "You just need a girl."

"And by that, you're suggestin' I do what, exactly? I hardly fuckin' know women, and the only ones I do know are psychos, the four different colours of Jesus, or way too cute and or young."

"Where do I fit in with those categories? I'm only in my twenties. Am I too young for you?" Chika pouted.

"No, no, you fit in the 'Psycho' category."

"What?!" She stood up. "How dare you insult my mental state!" Jack shrugged, breaking open the action on his shotgun and checking it was unloaded.

"Well, I'm not the one with the plaque of Vert, am I? She's nice and all, and I respect her completely as a leader, but I think you take it a bit too far."

"B-But I-I have to be respectful of Lady Vert!" Chika snapped. "Otherwise, I'm not upholding my duty as Oracle."

"You mean the job that exists for when Lady Vert isn't around to have her arse kissed?"

"Don't you tell me that, as a man, you wouldn't kiss Lady Vert's well-formed posterior. I know I would. Multiple times."

"...you are _so_ weird. You're the best."

"I know: I don't get that a lot. I don't speak to many people: In fact you and James are the first two, besides Lady Vert and Cave, that I can really call good friends."

"Really? Considerin' your impressive figure and interestin' personality, I'm amazed more men don't come lookin' for you in a completely non-rapey way."

"Many have tried," sighed Chika, scratching the side of her jaw as they returned to the lift with Jack's gear. "None have succeeded."

"So I gather. Why, you make weird demands to them or some bollocks?" Chika suddenly perked up.

"UM, NO," she blurted, her eyes darting. "NO, I DON'T. THEY WEAR THEIR SHIRTS. THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE BUTLERS." Jack recoiled slightly.

"Fuckin' hell, just askin'..." he muttered, taking his left hand off his shotgun foregrip and rubbing the back of his head. Using his right hand, he lifted the shotgun up and assessed it as the lift began to move down. "...hey, Oracle Hakozaki?"

"Yes?"

"Are there any laws regardin' weapons in Gamindustri?" The smaller woman next to him looked up slightly in thought.

"None that I can think of in Leanbox," she replied after a moment, "Though there may be some in Lastation, Planeptune, and Lowee. But by our standards, the weapons that you and James are carrying can be seen as high-power anti-monster weapons. I don't see any reason why anybody would doubt two highly-levelled men if their low-level weapons seem to match their strength." There it was again. Levels.

"Alright...oh, you mentioned we're high levels." Jack noted suddenly.

"Yes, and?" Chika responded calmly, raising a brow as the elevator reached the lobby, the doors sliding open to allow the two to exit.

"Well, I was just wonderin' how you figure it out."

"It's simple, really," she smiled, before her eyes drifted to Jack's chest. "Just look at someone's heart." After a moment, she looked up at him again with her striking ruby eyes. "You're level one hundred and seventy? Impressive. How long have you been here?" Jack scratched his head before checking his watch.

"About nine days or so. Probably less. Why, is it bad that I'm only level one hundred and seventy?" Chika exhaled in surprise.

"It took me fifteen years to reach level one hundred, and you reach a hundred and seventy in nine days..." Chika seemed lost in thought for a moment, before shaking her head. "Huh. Well, anyway, if I'm unmistaken, you're headed to Lowee next."

"Yeah, I think so. Did Lady Vert say how we're gettin' there?" Chika was about to answer, but was conveniently interrupted.

"That is what I am here to discuss," came Lady Vert's gentle voice. She approached the two with James following along behind, clutching his AK with his right hand and his left hand clutching a rather specialized looking handgun. As Lady Vert approached, Chika broke into a curtsey.

"Good afternoon, my lady," she said quickly, elbowing Jack in the side of the abdomen. It didn't make an impact, due to his ballistic vest, but nevertheless, he mock-tipped a brimmed hat.

"M'lady," he said flatly. James laughed.

"I see you have achieved new levels of euphoria, good sir," he said in a rather posh voice. Jack smirked, and leaned towards him.

"Yes, yes, indeed," he replied, taking on the same mocking voice, "I tippeth my fedora to you for spottin' my swag." Immediately, he stood back up, and shuddered. "Fuckin' hell, remind me to never pretend to be a neckbeard again. The only time I ever get pissed off at the sound of my voice..." Lady Vert nodded, and bobbed up and down cheerfully. This, as was often _very_ apparent, made her ample chest bounce considerably.

"Never be an otaku again," she beamed. "Now, to answer your question regarding the need for a way over to Lowee, the answer is simple: I shall personally fly you there." Jack's face paled.

"Uh, cou-could we just take a plane?" he asked, raising a hand quickly. "It, uh, it's safer, and you don't have to carry us..." Vert sighed, smiling at him.

"I'm aware of your fear of flight, Mr. Lovebun," she said in her usual motherly tone, "But there is no need for fear: I will be holding you both every step of the way."

"No, no, I'm not soddin' scared of flyin'," Jack said quickly, ignoring James' and Chika's laughter from nearby. "I just don't like the bit where we're suddenly _not_ fuckin' flyin', and where I'm suddenly swimmin' in icy fuckin' waters. Plus, we're both carryin' a lot of heavy gear. You sure you can carry it all?" Once more, Vert smiled gently, and bobbed up slightly again, prompting her voluptuous bust to jiggle once more. James kept his eyes subtly looking towards it. Jack ignored it. Chika was making no effort to conceal her adoring gaze towards her idol's breasts.

"Of course: The recent jump in shares thanks to your public appearance has boosted my physical tolerances. You and your things should be of no problem to me in HDD form, so I shall deliver you to Lowee's basilicom." James raised his gloved hand, shifting his head to move his fringe from his eyes.

"Can you drop us off just outside Lowee's main city, into, like, a forest or somethin'?" he asked. Vert tilted her head at him, a confused expression on her face and her arms folded underneath her breasts, framing them and raising them perfectly. Jack wasn't sure if it was intentional.

"I...could. Why?" she asked.

"Because I wanna fight my way to the town." Now Jack tilted his head side to side, considering the proposal. He still wanted to have a play with the double-barrel he took from that mobster. Maybe he could turn it into a sawed-off if he liked it.

"Fair do, that sounds fun," he nodded, turning to Vert. "I want to kill somethin' before I'm vigorously studied by Lady Blanc." Vert laughed.

"Very well, I can agree to that." Her face suddenly took on a look of concern. "Are you two certain you can hold your own in the wilderness?" Jack her a deadpan look.

"Lady Vert," he began, "I have a shotgun that shoots three thousand degrees Celsius worth of sticky fire, another shotgun that can stop chargin' elephants, a handgun chambered in one of the most powerful rounds available, two low-recoil high-fire-rate submachine-guns, a baton that can split skulls like melons, and a machete that would probably hurt more if the enemy was covered in piss." As he spoke, he gestured to the mentioned items. "James has a ridiculously powerful sniper rifle that can one-shot anyone if you hit them above the legs, two higher-power submachine-guns, and an assault rifle that fires finger sized bullets and will literally never stop workin'. Plus, both of us are wearin' soddin' military grade armour designed to stop bullets, so I'm sure we'll be fine, unless you insist on lookin' after us, which I have no issues with." As if he had suggested it to her, Vert squealed in glee.

"You're letting me go with you?!" she beamed, before pulling the two into a rather crushing hug. "This will be a lot of fun: We can fight monsters, defend against random encounters in long grass, then camp out if it takes too long! Just like the Pocket Monsters games!" Jack could actually feel his body armour cracking slightly under her surprisingly strong arms, whilst his chest was having Vert's left boob squished against it. He didn't know if this was what women on Earth would greet men by doing, but he was very tempted to touch her bountiful, well formed and vanilla scented chest...

Wait...

..._Pocket Monsters games?_

Jack carefully leaned towards James. "Is that a reference...?" he whispered. James shrugged as subtly as he could, shifting in what was either discomfort from the hug or an attempt to get closer to Vert.

_**Two hours later, in one of Lowee's surrounding forests...**_

The first thing that struck Jack as Lady Vert gently set them down, besides some branches, was that the monsters seemed a _lot_ tougher than the Cardbirds and Dogoos he had encountered until then. In a few nearby bushes, he could make out a whole group of what looked to be different types of robot. Considering how unfriendly everything was in Lastation's wilderness and Leanbox's occasional random street spawns, it was Jack's best guess that the machines that idly milled about in the bushes were _not_ going to be as subservient as Siri. If anything, the big lasers that some of them were carrying served to make him less trusting. As soon as his boots crunched against the snow, Jack had already slipped behind a tree and broke his double-barrel's chambers open. He looked to James, who was in a crouch with his AK raised, looking quite professional in his full tactical gear. "Oi, James," he whispered, as Lady Vert (actually Lady Green Heart now she was in Boob Jesus mode) summoned her lance and stood behind a thicker tree, "Think I should go for AP Slugs on these twats?" The Welshman, not taking his eyes from his rifle's sights, removed his left hand from the foregrip and gave a thumbs up.

"Your decision," he replied quietly. His breath was visible as a thick white cloud in the cold Lowee climate, so Jack knew that it'd be best for them to make their way out as soon as possible. Plus, just casting a glance over to Lady Green Heart showed she was definitely struggling in her outrageously revealing outfit: The woman was shivering with a less than happy look on her face, if a bit sad. Jack sighed.

"Let's get this over with..." he muttered, before reaching for the bandolier over his chest, withdrawing two solid black casings with pointed steel ends peeking from them. Carefully, he placed them into the two waiting barrels of the double-barrel in his hands, and closed the break with a clack. He wasn't exactly sure why he wasn't loading the slugs into his Mossberg, but he was certain he'd probably get more style points for using a classic Coach Gun to blow up a robot. Sweeping around the side of the tree, shotgun held at his shoulder, he rested his middle and forefingers on the two triggers of the firearm and took aim towards the larger robot that was gently chugging away to itself as it stared at a tree. Jack held his breath, and squeezed both triggers simultaneously, with instant results: The surprisingly limited force of both shells' recoil pushed against his shoulder as the sound of their report rang out through the air, with the impact of the two slugs smashing into the side of the large machine a moment later. It jolted sideways in registration of the shots, attempting to steady itself on its four legs and only barely keeping itself standing as smoke began to billow from two drainpipe sized holes in its gunmetal grey exterior. As it began to turn its cannon to bear in response, James stepped in.

Loud roars of gunfire ripped from the barrel of his Kalashnikov, the larger rounds smashing against the machine and putting more smoking holes into it, prompting it to step back a bit to process its options. This gave him the opportunity to turn his rifle to the smaller, ball shaped machines that had begun to fly in their droves from the bushes, each bullet guaranteeing a single kill. Jack took the opportunity to break open the shotgun again, withdraw the two AP slugs, and replace them with the dreaded Dragon's Breath shots. Taking aim from the hip, he pointed the two long tubes towards a larger swarm that was approaching from behind them and yanked the first trigger. The flurry of flame flew from the left barrel, the intense heat from the individual pellets ripping straight through the first wall of machines and converting them straight into data, before flying straight on to hit the second robots. While it certainly hurt them, many of them beginning to fly at awkward angles and bump into each other as the sticky magnesium slowly melted them, they still kept coming. "Persistent little cunts!" Jack roared, before pulling the second trigger. This time, only a few of the pellets hit the robots, the rest simply dropping after a short distance and landing in the snow to be extinguished. "Lady Green Heart!" he yelled, looking to the tall woman as he snapped the shotgun open again. "See what you can do about the stragglers!"

The green-haired woman nodded, twirling her lance. "On it!" she replied sharply, before suddenly sliding straight towards Jack, the long lance twirling behind her. Jack withdrew his Desert Eagle, dropping the double-barrel and diving straight out the way of Lady Green Heart. Landing backwards on the snow, he put his knees up and put the pistol between his legs, taking aim at some of the robots that were approaching.

He hadn't fired a Desert Eagle before, let alone one chambered in forty four magnum.

But if playing countless first person shooters had taught him anything, it was that most handguns operated in exactly the same way, and that Desert Eagles could skullfuck _anything_.

That in mind, he pulled the trigger, and first robot he hit exploded into a ball of flame and data as his Desert Eagle jolted back towards him with all the force of Uni's sudden hug a few days before. Grunting as he felt his wrist click slightly from the sudden twist, Jack made sure he secured the pistol properly for his follow up shot, hitting another of the flying drones dead on. He repeated the secure and shoot cycle as he fired, finally managing to drop enough of them that he could get into a low crouch and begin crouch-walking to James with his new favourite gun held like a normal pistol for maximum mobility. Nearby, Lady Green Heart was like a G-Cup typhoon, twirling her lance around and mowing through crowds of the smaller machines. James had let his AK dangle from its sling, opting to use his Arctic Warfare rifle to begin firing at the large spider-like machine that was still attempting to bring its gun to bear.

And Jack, before he reached James, felt something ram into his side and throw him off his feet. It wasn't excruciatingly painful or anything: If anything, it barely hurt. But the thing that was definitely gonna cause a problem was that the small, slightly melted drone was dangling its laser cannon in front of his face. Down the barrel, Jack could see that there was a shot charging, and his pistol was a few meters away. He reached forward, as fast as he could, gripping the constantly heating barrel of the cannon and sitting himself up slightly, moving his foot to the drone's central lens and starting to wrench the laser towards its body. The two wrestled for a few moments, the weapon drifting back and forth between them, until Jack finally made his move. He moved his other foot onto the drone's eye, before using all his might to rip the cannon from it entirely, halting the charging and sending the spherical robot tumbling backwards into a bank of snow. Immediately, Jack got to his feet, the broken laser in hand, and made his way over to the beeping machine that lay smoldering in a blanket of white. By then, James' gunfire had stopped, and Lady Green Heart was pulling her victory pose, prompting Jack to place his size eleven boot straight onto the side of the defeated device in front of him. Then, with one final, adrenaline fuelled yell, he slammed the broken laser straight through the metallic plating of the drone, piercing its circuitry and causing it to spasm. Green Heart smiled.

"Good work!" she beamed to James, who was standing up and racking the bolt on his sniper rifle. "That certainly was a well fought battle!" Before James could formulate a response, there came the rather sudden sound of repeated shotgun fire. The two cast a glance over to Jack, who was standing on top of the barely functional drone and hammering it with Dragon's Breath shells from his Mossberg whilst yelling things that nobody should ever, _ever_ have to hear. After a moment, Green Heart smiled awkwardly. "So...where did you say you met Mr. Lovebun again?" James shrugged.

"I dunno," he replied casually, "But I should note some of these phrases down."


	7. Unfortunately Audible Emotional Release

Blanc looked up from her cup of tea.

"You're late," she said quietly. The brown-haired girl's facial expression didn't change as she looked at Jack and James, who were standing in the entrance hall of the basilicom. Behind them, a group of maids fussed over the oil and mud they had trailed in, and a butler began to make his way over to ask for their weapons. The two lads shifted slightly awkwardly, guns in hand. "You were supposed to be here at two o' clock."

"Yeah, sorry about that," James winced, scratching the back of his mop of hair, "We sort of got caught up fightin' some robots outside the city. Sorry, Lady Blanc." Jack nodded in agreement.

"We totally fucked those pieces of shit," he said flatly. "Point forty-four magnum beats laser cannons." Blanc's expression didn't change as she began to approach them. It only struck Jack then how adorable Lady Blanc was. She had to be only four foot something: She barely reached his stomach. Plus, she had a little hat on her head, and a small pair of shoes that adorned her tiny feet. He also noticed that she constantly looked bored.

"I do not understand why you didn't just land in the city," she responded calmly, looking up at them. Jack shifted the double-barrel in his hands towards James.

"He wanted to get some monster fightin' done before we got here," he explained, "And I wanted to test this double-barrel I loote-ah...acquired." There was a pause, with the butler patiently standing beside Jack.

"Sir," he began suddenly, causing Jack to jolt in surprise.

"Fuckin' hell, where'd you bloody come from...?" he trailed off as he shook his head, before straightening up. "Aye?"

"Basilicom rules require that non-basilicom staff hand over all weaponry to the security office in order to-"

"Prevent Columbine Part Two, Kalashnikov Boogaloo?" Jack interrupted casually, raising a brow. The butler nodded. "Don't worry. I pretty much had it bashed into my skull that I should never attack civilians."

"It's basilicom ruling, sir," the butler repeated. Jack sighed, and looked to the man.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, ensuring that the chambers of his weapons were empty (as best as he could, because there would always seem to be a round in the chamber regardless of the presence of a magazine), and began to hand them to the slightly shorter man in the suit. "These are the weapons I've got, but I can only give you so many before I'd be completely unable to defend myself from anyone." He span the Desert Eagle around his finger, before carefully holding it towards the butler's already filled arms. "Oh, and be careful, for some reason they always have rounds in them. Don't touch the triggers." The butler grunted, and balanced the large handgun on top of the large pile of weapons. Sticking his hands in his pockets as the suited man staggered away, Jack cast a glance towards James, who was standing and idly adjusting the scope of his rifle. "Why've you still got yours?"

"Because Lady Blanc trusts me not to murder people," he replied cheerfully. Jack shrugged.

"Fair do..." he muttered, looking to the small person in front of him. "So what now, Lady Blanc?" The girl blinked calmly.

"Mr. Hillman can go and visit my sisters," she gently replied, looking to James. Then she looked to Jack. "You will come with me." Jack nodded.

"Fine by me," he whistled, offering James a wave as he walked away. "Have fun."

"Alright then," James muttered, dropping his rifle into his left hand and carrying it by a part just in front of the magazine well as he made his way down a separate corridor. "These kids just fuckin' love me, when I can actually bloody find them..."

Jack didn't exactly have any reason to complain about following behind Lady Blanc, besides his sudden urge to sit her on his shoulders and carry her. She also didn't have a prideful strut like Lady Noire, or a gentle trot like Lady Vert: She practically shuffled down the corridor ahead of him, not really paying much interest in anything around her. Instead, she kept plodding along gently until she reached a large door to her right and stopped. She then stood there for a moment, and looked up at Jack with her slightly sad expression not changed from when he first walked in. "Please open this," she ordered calmly. Jack stared at her blankly.

"Why? Do you not have a key?" he asked.

"I lack the physical strength at this time; My Share energy has recently decreased significantly and gone to Leanbox, so I find myself too weak to open this door." Jack nodded.

'_Gone to Leanbox suddenly? Oh...uh, shit._'

"You can probably get it back," he smiled reassuringly, before moving his shoulder in front of the large door, tensing his arm, and giving it a quick bash with his shoulder, sending it swinging open. "You seem nice enough, I can't see any reason why people would stop believing in you." Blanc paused for a brief moment, and shuffled through the doorway as Jack held the door open.

"Neither can I." Blanc continued to pootle along down a surprisingly long room with what appeared to be a computer desk on an altar as Jack watched her go, releasing the door to close it. "I would consider myself to be one of the most caring out of all the four nations' leaders. I cannot see a reason why my Shares would lower in Leanbox." Jack kept his best poker face on as he followed behind.

"Have you tried going out and doing some monster clearin' jobs for the public?" he asked.

"Yes."

"In HDD?"

"Not always. It is not always necessary."

"Well...hmm. Have you considered propaganda?" By then, the two had reached the computer desk. Blanc moved carefully up the steps, whilst Jack went up half of them at once due to their small size. Blanc shook her head as she sat in the white-leather office chair at the desk.

"I do not wish to look to be a dictator," she replied calmly. "As of right now, my best hope is to reach out to the public with literature." Jack stood there, looking confused for a moment.

"So, you don't want to look like a dictator...but you're going to publish your autobiography that tells everyone your views on society?" Jack looked up in thought for a moment. "Huh, wonder where I've heard of that happenin' before."

"I intend to write a story."

"A story?"

"Similar to this one, yes." Jack was about to respond, when he suddenly paused.

"Wait, this is a sto-?"

"If I were to write a successful work of fiction, I believe it might help the people of Lowee to better understand their goddess, allowing them to acknowledge that I, too, have a vivid imagination and a capability to write."

"So, why am I here?"

"I wish to ask you questions about literature from your world."

"And you couldn't have asked James? He brought a book with him."

"I found his book to be of a disturbing nature and I refuse to ask him why he owns such a work in hardback, signed by the author." Jack paused again.

"...his copy of Mein Kampf is signed by Adolf Hitler?" he groaned. "Fuckin' hell, that'd get him hung back at home..." Regardless of Jack's muttering, Blanc opened up a notepad on her desk and retrieved a pen.

"My first question is regarding the popularity of genres of books on your planet. Please list the three most popular genres."

"Porn for middle-aged women, religious shite, and terrible books about games regardin' fancy chairs." Blanc took a moment to note this revelation down.

"Mi-ddle-aged wo-men..." she whispered, before looking back up. "What tends to be a recurring theme in these genres?" Jack shrugged.

"People that do things nobody in their right mind should care about?" he mused. "I don't know, I never read books like that unless I was forced to."

"I am glad you do not read pornographic material designed for bored housewives." Blanc noted Jack's response down, and looked up at him again. "My third question regards the manner with which you and Mr. Hillman speak. Is it socially acceptable to use obscene language on a daily basis on your world?"

"Not at all," Jack grinned, stretching his leg slightly. "Swearin's frowned upon, black humour gets you yelled at in the papers, and bein' a proper English gentleman like me is also frowned upon. Hence, I like displayin' how much of a proper English gentleman I am by swearin' at people and makin' jokes that get most people to laugh whilst feelin' guilty."

"And your behaviour?"

"My behaviour?"

"You seem to trivialize violence."

"I trivialize my actions because of the fact I couldn't do them back home," he retorted. "Where I come from, you know what there was? No monsters, no Shares, no goddesses, and a strict set of rules on society. You couldn't own handguns in the UK unless you were in the police. You couldn't own guns until you were eighteen. You couldn't own anythin' to look after yourself until you were eighteen, and lookin' after yourself was seen as a criminal offence because the bloke who tried breakin' into your house can file for assault if you hit them.

"The people in charge had no soddin' clue what they were doin' with the country and just squabbled over petty little struggles from the top of their fuckin' ivory towers, leavin' everyone at the bottom to struggle with a useless police force, a once great army that kept on gettin' budget cuts to fund a welfare state that was gettin' abused by lazy cunts, and so many more day-to-day issues that we put up with all the time. Me applyin' for this venture was me gettin' away from all that, havin' the rights to carry whatever weapons I wanted, go somewhere I never would have gone otherwise, and abandon the sinkin' ship of Britannia as it pulled itself to fuckin' pieces." He looked down at Blanc.

"Every single shot I fire, insult I make, and kill I get, is powered by my absolute fuckin' hatred for the despicable fuckin' _creatures_ who think themselves to be above the system, and think that they hold some privilege over people who actually worked a day in their fuckin' lives. And it's the politicians like that back home that made me fuckin' _despise_ the monsters who make Gamindustri's citizens live in fear every day, because as someone who grew up in workin' class Britain, the section of society where you sometimes struggle to get through the day without killin' some dick'ead that pushes weak people around, I _know_ that livin' in fear of some stupid arsehole monsters is not somethin' else you need on your plate when you're tryin' to stay afloat. What every average Joe wants is someone who's willin' to keep spirits high, put boot to arse, and say what any right-minded human bein' would say."

Blanc stared at him. If she was a little stunned by the tirade, which she most certainly was, she didn't show it. Jack cast a glance down at her notepad, where he saw that she had copied down every single word he had said. He pointed a finger to it. "You can quote me on that, if you want." he huffed, wiping some sweat from his brow. Blanc nodded, and for the first time, he saw her smile.

"I will," she said gently. "Those are all my questions. Thank you for your help." Jack offered a short bow.

"No worries, any time," he replied, before turning around and making his way out of the room. Behind him, he could hear Lady Blanc begin typing. As he opened the door to leave, he had a brief sense of deja vu from Red Dead Redemption: There were a whole bunch of people standing around the doorway, looking stunned. James was standing there was well, with two little girls in front of him that couldn't have been older than seven or eight. They both looked rather distressed, and had their hands over their ears. Jack stopped, and looked at the people around him. "...what?" One woman stepped forward.

"Is...everything alright with Lady Blanc?" she asked timidly. Jack slowly nodded, giving her a cautious glance.

"Yeeeeah...why do you ask...?" he trailed off.

"Oh. Um. Well. We, um, heard your shouting, Mr. Globalbone." Jack jabbed a finger at her, prompting some of the crowd to recoil.

"Keep gettin' my soddin' name wrong and I'll start yellin' again," he growled. The woman nodded quickly. "And that was just me answerin' Lady Blanc's questions about some political bollocks." James raised a hand from the foregrip of his rifle.

"Jack, stop swearin' for a minute," he demanded.

"Oi, nah, fuck off, you dirty twat," Jack replied sharply.

"There, cheers," James grinned, before patting the two little girls on their shoulders. "Rom, Ram, you can uncover your ears, now." After a pause, during which the crowds of basilicom staff went back to their normal duties, the two little girls slowly removed their incredibly tiny hands from their ears, looking slightly terrified of the even-taller-than-Mr.-Hillman-sized Jack. "Say hi," James ushered. Simultaneously, they spoke.

"**H-Hello...**" they whimpered. Jack knew _exactly_ what he was meant to do in a situation where some young kids were nervous about meeting him: He dropped onto both knees and slouched down to be at their height. His career of weekend babysitting for a fiver an hour had finally taught him something useful.

"Hi," he replied gently, extending a hand. "You must be Rom and Ram, correct?" The two nodded, but didn't accept Jack's handshake. He slowly put his hand away. "Anyway, I understand that my mate James had been lookin' after you for a while before he went to Leanbox."

The girl in the pink dress smiled. "Yeah, we like Mr. Hillman!" she grinned. Her sister nodded.

"Yes...he-he's fun," she said quietly. Obviously, she must have been Rom, and the more excited of the two was Ram. James had explained that to him on the way over, and Jack had listened in-between accidentally getting a face full of Green Heart's breasts (an oddly recurring theme) and trying not to fall off her arm. Jack laughed.

"Indeed he is; He's been one of my best friends for a few years now. It's not exactly normal for a British-stroke-Scottish bloke and a Welshman to be good friends." Jack looked up at James. "Speakin' of different cultures, has anythin' come up regardin' Luke and Josh?" James shrugged with a worried expression, and Jack sighed, shaking his head. "Fuck's sake, where are those pillocks...?"

"Mr. Hillman told us about your friends," Rom suddenly spoke up, before stepping forward and putting a tiny hand on Jack's shoulder, offering a tiny little smile. "It's OK. I think they'll be found soon." Ram nodded eagerly, her grin just as beaming. Jack returned the smile, and couldn't help but find Rom and Ram to be even more endearing than Uni.

"Thanks," he replied, "But I think James and I are more worried that they'll find us first." James shrugged calmly. Good point.

"I think that you two could take 'em!" Ram said bravely. "You're both big guys and you're trained to kick butt!" Jack laughed and stood up, folding his arms.

"You've got a point there," he smiled down at the tiny little girl. "Only thing is, so are they, and I dunno what they packed for this trip." James snorted.

"Knowin' Luke, he probably came here in full British army gear," smirked the Welshman. "Or farmin' clothes." Jack laughed again, putting his hands in his pockets.

"And he'll've been gettin' into dirty business with Josh..." he trailed off. James wasn't sure if he was supposed to reprimand his friend for saying such an innuendo in front of Rom and Ram, or laugh loudly at the blatantly obvious gay sex joke that pointed all the time that Josh and Luke normally spent together before and during training, bickering between each other like a married couple. "So, anyway," Jack sighed, "What do we do now?" James looked down the hallway. Rom and Ram stared blankly at the two, smiling innocently. Jack scratched his arse for a moment. After a few seconds, James looked back.

"We could go see Oracle Mina?" he suggested. Rom and Ram gasped in delight at such a suggestion. Seeing their reaction, Jack nodded.

"Sure, don't think I've met her yet," he said, gesturing to James. "Lead the way."

"You have met her," James noted, turning and guiding the group down the huge hallway. "At the summit in Leanbox. She offered a handshake, during which you nearly broke her hand." Jack spread his arms apart in exasperation as he walked.

"That woman? That wasn't my fault!" he retorted. "She just had a very lady-like body type and that meant my huge gorilla hand engulfed half her forearm. I wonder if she remembers me."

"She probably will," James nodded, "Especially considerin' I needed to calm her down afterwards because she was shakin' so much." Jack whistled, sticking his hands in his jean pockets again.

"Ffffffff..." he began, before noticing Rom and Ram looking up at him curiously. "...ffffreakin' he...ck, I'm not that blooooooomin' scary, am I?" James rolled his eyes.

"Depends: Are you a fox in the Nevada desert?" he asked, his expression hardening. "That poor fox."

"I was hungry and had a machete, the fox was nearby, so Whoop: Deal with it." Jack cast a casual glance down the hall: They had begun to approach a small corridor, lined with small doors that wouldn't have looked out of place in an office. At the end of that, there was a single door that was open, showing a blue-haired woman in a white dress that was typing away on a computer. As they got closer, Jack noticed that she had a rather cute pair of red-rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose in front of a pair of vibrant blue eyes, both scrunched slightly as she concentrated on what Jack assumed was some paperwork of some kind. But...considering how she was only really moving the mouse and occasionally moving her left hand, he figured she was more likely to be focusing on a game of some kind. Nevertheless, the two taller men and two tiny children made the transition from grandiose halls to Gervais' office, with Jack having to crouch slightly in order to fit. James had no trouble, only having to hold his rifle by his side due to its incredible length.

As if she could see them, the moment they reached exactly halfway down the little passage, the woman lifted her head from what was probably her high-score run on Galaga and smiled at Rom and Ram. "Girls!" she beamed in a gentle tone as the two little people ran ahead into her office, giggling. "It's lovely to see you visiting!" Mina lifted Ram up onto her lap and rested a hand on Rom's head, smiling like some kind of surrogate mother. Wait. What if she was their real Mum? Jack shouldn't have thought about those kind of things. Nevertheless, James also made his presence known, but not before gesturing for Jack to hold his position in the hallway.

"Hello, Oracle," James greeted calmly. Mina looked up in surprise, before offering a genuine smile to the Welshman.

"Mr. Hillman! Lovely to see you back from your trip to Leanbox!" she beamed. James nodded, leaning his rifle against the wall.

"It's good to see you, Oracle," he nodded, before leaning forward, "Oh, uh, one thing, though." Mina raised a brow.

"Yes?" she replied calmly.

"We...had to bring Jack London back with us. Lady Blanc's orders." The colour immediately drained from the once smiling woman's face.

"O-Oh...g-goodness..." she muttered, looking away in shock. After a moment, she looked back at James, Rom and Ram still standing near her but now looking a bit worried. "Where is he now?" To answer, Jack's arm swept in from the side of the doorframe and gave a thumbs up.

"Right out here, Oracle," Jack replied calmly, dropping the arm out of view. Mina's face went even more pale in registration of how close he actually was. "Y'know," he suddenly said, "This place reminds me of that one program with Ricky Gervais, where he's an office worker in an office and does office things around the office where he works with other people from the office. James, you know what that program was called?" James groaned.

"You mean The Office?" he sighed.

"Oh, yeah, that was the one. Cheers, lad." Silence reigned again.

"Why?" Mina asked flatly, dethroning silence and sending it to the dungeons for a later public execution. James brushed through his hair.

"Lady's orders, like I said," he replied, "Nothin' fancy, just part of some deal he made with the goddesses up in Celestia."

"I'm on loan to all the countries," Jack cut in. "Babysittin' Uni for Lady Noire, helpin' with studies here in Lowee, givin' speeches in Leanbox for Lady Vert, and I'm not sure what Lady Neptune wanted me to do, but I guarantee it'll be summat menial." Mina groaned.

"Goodness. So perhaps he caused the recent fall in Lowee's shares in Leanbox?" she murmured. There was a pause. "No. That must be coincidence."

"Probably," he noted, "Also maybe it was me and James and our help in stoppin' a bank robbery and savin' some singer and her sister." Another pause. "I didn't get MAGES.' number. Bollocks."

"Another one slips through, mate," James laughed. Jack made a distressed whining noise in the corridor.


	8. Revisiting the Lasses

After a few hours, Jack couldn't take it any more.

Without his weapons on his person, he literally felt like he was naked. It was almost _humiliating_ for him. His reasoning for joining the project was that it said he could carry whatever weapons he wanted and go on an adventure where he could shoot the living fuck out of a load of weird mutants for absolutely hours. Plain and simple.

So the very idea that now he was in a completely safe area, his guns no longer in his charge, was devastating to his psyche. He sighed for the fifteenth time the following morning's breakfast, and scratched his forehead. Blanc looked at him with her usual, unreadable expression. "Are you feeling alright, Mr. Funrun?" she asked calmly, sipping from a cup of tea. Jack sat up, and looked at her.

"Doin' fine," he replied flatly. "Mostly buggered off 'cause I've not got my guns with me. I feel like I'm ffffffff..." He cast a glance to Rom and Ram, and to Mina, who was sat beside them shaking her head with a serious expression. "...ffffreakin' vulnerable as sssssssugar." James stifled laughs. If anybody could be any more awkward in trying to not swear, it was probably Gordon "It's Fucking Raw, You Fucking Shit-Faced Cock-Sucking Donkey Shagger" Ramsay. Mina gave an approving smile, and mouthed the words 'Thank You' to Jack, out of the twins' vision. He shook his head as they returned to eating. Blanc continued looking at him, nonetheless.

"Why do you not leave the basilicom for a while?" she suggested. "I have gathered enough research from Mr. Hillman, and enough knowledge from you, alongside my sisters being with Oracle Mina for the day, so there is little need for you around the basilicom." Jack sat up again, interested.

"You'd give us permission for that?" he asked. Blanc nodded. "You're not gonna have someone keeping an eye on us?" There was a pause.

"...do you intend to do something that would significantly anger me?" the goddess asked. Jack thought for a moment.

"I might swear. Like, a lot. And, uh, James and I would be walkin' around with guns. Plus, we might get into trouble with any other guys from our world that we meet. Could end badly if rounds're fired off.'

"Then you avoid them."

"Difficult. We all got the same trainin'." James joined the conversation, sweeping his fringe out of his eyes. "They'd see us comin' a mile away."

"I'm not that fat, you prick..." Jack muttered.

"Besides, what could we even do once we go out?" Blanc thought for a minute, sipping her beverage once more. There was silence throughout the large dining hall with the table continuing to eat their meals.

"You could go shopping," she suggested, setting her cup down and looking to Jack. "I remember you mentioning that you had a fairly large sum of money available to you, Mr. Hungwon." Jack, ignoring the blatant running joke that was going to piss him off to the point of homicide, nodded, reclining back.

"From what exposition's tellin' me," he grunted, stretching his back, "I've got about twenty-odd thousand credits. I suppose I could go and buy summat that looks interestin'." James nodded.

"We could probably flog some stuff, as well," he noted. "Especially those robot parts from yesterday. Wonder if those broken things're still lyin' there?"

"Some of them turned into those big purple light things, and some of them stayed long enough for me to smash them to bits, so yeah, maybe they are." Jack stood up, stretching a leg. "You wanna go have a look?" James nodded again, and stood up as well.

"Right behind you, in a no homo way," he grinned. Jack resisted the urge to vomit, and they bid Lowee's upper hierarchy goodbye.

As the door closed, Ram turned to Blanc. "Sis?" she asked. Blanc looked to her with her usual dull expression.

"That is me."

"What's a 'no homo'?"

"I can't say without being a hypocrite about not wanting them to say unpleasant things in front of you. Wait until you are older."

Mina let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as Rom and Ram continued their breakfasts.

_**Later, in Lowee town centre...**_

"So," James began, hands in his pockets as they walked down the street. "Impressions?" Jack cast a questioning glance over to his friend, raising a brow.

"Seriously?" He let out a sigh, before shaking his head and thinking for a moment. "Well, better weather than in fuckin' Scotland, I'll tell you that much. Why'd you care?" James gently shrugged, giving a tip of his black cap to a few women that were staring at them in interest, prompting them to break off into giggles.

"Well, y'know," smiled the Welshman, "It's the city I was found in. Survived just outside it for a while, fightin' monsters and such like," He swept his hair back over. "Then when it came to actually goin' into the streets once Lady Blanc let me go out, I came to kinda like it. Rather charmin' place." They stopped momentarily to let a tram roll slowly past, and Jack let out his usual huff of 'meh', though it was one that was visible in the frigid Lowee air.

"Anythin' beats Stockport," he said flatly, finally being able to move over the road past the tram. James rolled his eyes. "Besides, I have money to spend, so I'm probably gonna end up buying weapons. Heard in Lastation that Lowee does a lot in terms of gun tech, so why not go lookin' for summat ridiculous?" The eyes of crowds subtly watched the two, but they were fully aware of their constant observation by the masses. Jack felt its existence more than either of them, because he was easily two or three heads taller than pretty much everybody. They stood at the side of the pavement, and Jack put his hands on his hips, sleeves still rolled up with his ballistic guards on.

"Maybe it'd be more sensible to buy a fuckin' coat," James muttered. "Dunno how you're not cold."

"I'm Scottish. Also, my internal thermometer is buggered. Anyway, you know any decent weapon shops in this place, considerin' you like it so much?"

"Can only give you a shrug and a middle finger," James replied, kicking at some snow. "Might need to wander for a bit." Jack groaned, and thumbed at his Mossberg strap.

"You lazy fucker. Go learn street layouts." The taller lad turned heel and began his steady march down the pavement, James lagging behind slightly as passers-by watched in interest.

"Says you, dickhead!" James laughed. "You're the one who took Drama over somethin' like Geography in school." Jack turned suddenly, halting and jabbing a finger at James.

"Hey, fuck you, Miss said I had the potential to be a famous actor one day," he shot back, before turning and continuing his walking. James shrugged.

"You must be in a family of actors; Pretty sure I saw your Mum and Dad in a porno once." He was certain he heard someone chuckle as they went past. Jack shrugged it off.

"Don't care, their reputation, another reason for me to despise them," he muttered, before halting, and looking at a nearby shop. James paused as well, and looked at it.

"...this is a hardware shop." Jack said the words almost curiously. James nodded.

"Congratulations. You're not fuckin' blind."

"They sell tools in here."

"No shit."

"Let's go inside." Without further words or explanation, Jack turned to his left and marched straight through the door of the dingy little shop on the corner of an alleyway. James let out a groan, and marched in, ducking through the entrance at an angle so as to avoid the lengthy rifle on his back getting caught in the doorframe.

"Why?" he groaned, squinting in the low light conditions. Lying around the miserable little store were assorted tools, labelled at prices like one hundred credits for a crowbar. "No guns here. Thought we were lookin' for weapons." Jack, however, paid no heed, moving straight to the power tools segment of the store and eyeing up the rack of assorted building equipment. As he watched his unusually quiet friend pick up a meaty looking chainsaw, James began to understand. He folded his arms. "Maybe for you, not for me. Won't catch me with one of those things. Better to stay in one good place and shoot from there." Jack dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he held the nearly-perfectly sized engine with the massive spiked chain.

"Because you're a bloody wimp, that's why," he retorted, eagerly looking at the tool's rotating chain and giving a few mock swings. "You wanna deal with Dogoos, you turn them into either caramel or paste. For the first one, I have Dragon's Breath. For the second one, I have my boot, and I'll also have this." James rolled his eyes as he looked at a gardening axe. It was barely a tomahawk, going by its size for him.

"It's overkill, mate," he sighed. "But, it's your money. How much?" Jack leaned back momentarily to look at the price marked on the metallic rack, before his grin returned.

"Seven hundred credits. Lovely jubbly." Without a further word, he turned, and carried the hefty machine to the counter at the back of the shop, poking the bell with a finger to get service.

"_I-I'll be through in a second!_" came the responding, undoubtedly shy, female voice. James put the axe down, and wandered idly over to his partner, hands in his pockets as his armoured form trudged towards Jack. And after another moment, the shop attendant came out of the back room, in the form of a rather small girl with ash-grey hair and a relatively skimpy outfit. For some reason, she looked to be rather frightened, which contradicted the ripped dragon-pattern jeans adorning one of her legs, massive golden chain necklace with the word '**TEKKEN**' hanging on the end, and a black and red...bra...thing. James, being an expert on these things, immediately deduced her to be a C-Cup, borderline D-Cup. She made her way over to the register, and looked up at Jack. "He-Hello." Jack, being careful, gave a nod.

"Mornin'," he replied, "Just lookin' to buy this appliance right here." He raised up the notably weighty chainsaw, and held it high enough that she could see he was carrying it. Her red eyes went slightly wide, and a noticeable bead of sweat appeared on her face.

"Th-That's an industrial logging tool!" she yelped. "I-I thought only cranes and robots were supposed to be able to carry those!" Jack tilted his head, and bobbed it up and down slightly.

"Really?" he asked. "Not too heavy, if you ask me." There was another pause as the woman stared at him in awe.

"Y-You're a big guy..." she gasped gently.

"Yeah, and nobody cared who I was until I picked up the chainsaw," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, this is seven hundred credits, right?" The woman nodded, pressing some buttons on the register.

"I-I have to say, though," she began in her rather timid voice, "Nobody has come in and p-picked that up before. It's just too heavy." Jack gave her a grin.

"Not really," he shrugged. "To be honest, where I'm from, this is a normal-sized logging appliance. But we're all, as everyone likes Banepostin', 'big guys', so most of the stuff in here could be called hand tools." As the woman continued pressing buttons on the register with a slightly confused expression, James couldn't help but speak up.

"Do you run this business alone?" he asked. The woman looked up in surprise at the sudden new voice, before swallowing hard and shaking her head with a slightly worried expression.

"I-I help one of my friends run it," she stuttered, "She's n-normally in the back, running experiments and things. She says I shouldn't get involved, because they're dangerous, or something, but I help when she lets me. Otherwise, I-I run shopfront." Jack nodded.

"Fair enough." There was more silence as the girl in front of him continued to try and work the register. James rolled his shoulder to alleviate a cramp. Jack shifted his weight in classic Mass Effect style.

The silence was broken by the sound of a woman's voice yelling from the back room. "_Blast!_" cried the other voice (presumably the shopkeeper's friend. "_I almost had it that time! Why must success always evade me at these crucial moments?_" Jack and James almost immediately recognised the voice.

"Was that Mages?" James asked, looking to Jack. Jack shrugged.

"Dunno who Mages is," he replied, "I can remember MAGES., though. She was nice." The woman behind the till suddenly gasped.

"You know MAGES.?" she asked in amazement. Cautiously, Jack and James nodded, and the girl smiled. "I've lived with her for a good long time now! She's very nice!" Jack raised a hand.

"Just to clarify, here," he began, causing the girl's smile to drop for a moment. "Your friend MAGES. wears a cool hat, has blue hair, wears a white coat thing with gears on it, has a mole, and smells weird?" The girl nodded, and Jack smiled again. "Yeah, it's the same MAGES. we met in Leanbox." James gave a shrug of acknowledgement.

"Didn't really get time to speak with her, though," he said coldly, folding his arms, "That whole bank robbery thing happened, and we wandered off after that." Once more, the shy lady behind the till gasped in surprise.

"Y-You're the two that helped stop the bank robbery, right?" she asked, amazed. Jack nodded. Was it really that big of a deal? Nonetheless, James made a 'pfft' noise.

"Yeah, we _helped_," he muttered. "And I think all we did was knock out two Russians."

"They didn't move fast enough: I was Russian faster than they could," Jack grinned, prompting everybody in the whole world to collectively commit suicide at his shitty sense of humour. Also, it prompted Uni to start cutting herself because she had once thought he was cool.

"Just fuck off with that." James leaned forwards onto the counter, drumming his fingers and finally looking at the girl. She raised her hands slightly, and shifted away, looking worried. "You got a name?" There was a pause, and the woman nodded.

"Y-Yes..." she trailed off, finally speaking up after looking at her necklace for a few moments. "M-My name is Tekken." Jack raised a brow.

"Tekken?" he repeated, testing the name. "Fairly certain that's the name of a fightin' game." Tekken tilted her head.

"Um...is it?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Pretty sure."

"Oh. Do you think I should get a different name?" She seemed to be considering her options, looking around worriedly. Jack shook his head.

"Nah," he replied, dismissing her with a wave of his hand before returning it to the rear handle of the chainsaw. It was surprisingly light for what Tekken was making it out to be. "Your name's fine. Couldn't be any worse than fuckin' 'Nigel', or 'Ed', or 'David', or-"

"You're namin' politicians, aren't you?" James sighed.

"Shut up, I'm not done," Jack retorted, "Or 'Nikola Sturgeon', and yeah, now I'm done." James muttered something about not being sure if that's what the woman's name was, and shook his head. Before Tekken could voice her confusion over the joke, however, there was another loud boom. This time, a massive cloud of white smoke blasted through the doorway behind the counter with another object coming flying through and smashing into the back of the counter, prompting Tekken to audibly yelp and curl up into a defensive ball, whilst Jack and James crouched as low as they could to actually make use of the desk as cover.

Jack could identify a hint of Jasmine that was being carried in the air amidst the chemically burning aroma. Leaving the chainsaw to rest on the floor (with a fuckload of protest by the floorboards), he stood up, and dusted himself off, helping James to his feet in a typical bro-like manner, complete with super badass handshake and triumphant music. Tekken carefully wobbled to a relatively stable position, and leaned on the counter, looking worriedly into the smoke. "M-MAGES.?" she called out. There was no reply.

After a moment, someone made a groaning noise, and a figure became visible standing / staggering to its feet. Through the rather generic cloud of smoke, Jack could make out the brim of a hat and a long coat. "Y-Yes, T-Tekken?" mumbled the response, facing quite clearly the wrong way as the smoke began to clear. MAGES.' grey haired companion darted over, and placed a gloved hand on the shoulder of the wizard.

"Th-That was some explosion!" Tekken cried, using both her hands to steady MAGES.' balance. "A-Are you OK?!" The smaller of the two carefully manoeuvred the wizard towards a chair, and sat her down. Jack could now see that MAGES. had the spirally eyes and wavy mouth that you'd expect from someone who just hit their head on a solid oak counter.

"Fuckin' hell," he piped up, scratching the back of his head and leaning forwards over the desk to check on her. "You want me to get an ambulance or summat? That was a fuckin' huge boom!" Tekken turned and quickly shook her head.

"No!" she cried, before realising she had raised her voice for no reason, swallowing hard. "I-I mean...n-no, thank you. This happens all the time. We'd just be causing problems for the ambulance service." James raised his brow, leaning forward as well.

"What, you're sayin' this is a daily thing?" he asked, astounded. Tekken nodded, withdrawing an ice pack from hammerspace, removing MAGES.' hat, and placing the ice on her forehead. The blue-haired woman let out an unintelligible mumble mixed with a groan.

"She's a scientist, it's what she does," explained the lightly-dressed girl, "She's always making new ways to make our lives better! But it...um...doesn't always work. Yesterday, she knocked herself out for three hours when her microwave exploded. Another time, she tried a potion that she had made herself, and ended up projectile vomiting for a week."

"What was the potion meant to do?" Jack asked.

"Cause projectile vomiting and diarrhea," Tekken replied calmly.

"...so her first instinct was to try it on herself?"

"She said she would do all the washing related to it."

"Eurgh," James groaned. "But how the hell is she still alive? That'd have broken my fuckin' neck if I'd've hit that counter." To that, Tekken could only respond with a shrug. James sighed, and leaned over to Jack as the smaller woman dealt with her dazed friend.

"_What do we do now?_" he whispered, "_She's dealin' with Mages, you got your chainsaw: Do we leave?_"

"_Not a fuckin' chance,_" Jack hissed. "_I feel as if we'd be bein' rude if we left her to it. Might as well stay and check that __**MAGES.**__ is OK._" James sighed, and rubbed his face for a moment.

"_...fine. Fine! Have it your way. But keep in mind that you gotta get her number._" Now Jack facepalmed.

"_Why's that comin' into this?!_"

"_Because you're the kind of bloke that sticks his dick in crazy, and she's crazy._"

"_Which one?_"

"_Why choose?_"

"_Fuck you. I'm just here in Gamindustri to have a good fight, not get with women._"

"_Great. Then nothin's stoppin' me goin' after Lady Vert._"

"_Except fuckin' Chika. That woman is obsessed with Lady Vert. She'd probably kidnap and kill you. Fuckin' psycho. Fun woman though._"

"_Once again, she's crazy..._"

"_Go fuck yourself._"

_**One, maybe two hours later...**_

Jack, not being involved in the conversation between Tekken and James, decided it would be more fun for him to wander about and assess his Desert Eagle. Tekken had been kind enough to invite both of them upstairs, knowing that MAGES. would have wanted to see them again after their strange disappearance in Leanbox and being accepting of their help in getting her dazed friend upstairs, which meant she let them poke around the small, five room flat that she shared with the unconscious woman in question. It had a living room (where James was sat speaking with Tekken), MAGES.' room, Tekken's room, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all connected via a series of corridors. One thing Jack noted was the soundproofing: He couldn't hear the other two discussing things in the living room, which was only next door. That meant he was standing alone in the hallway between the bathroom and kitchen, MAGES.' room tucked to one side with the door open a crack or so. He didn't much partake in social occasions.

Of course, he understood that Tekken had invited them in, and that it was polite to speak with your host, but he had a strange aversion to socializing. The only reason he knew James was because they both came from the same school and area, sat next to each other, and generally ended up meeting on the lad's days out that his limited social circle went out on. Thus, discovering their similar interests, they decided they might as well become friends. Thus, the two had done nearly everything that a pair of bored young English lads could do over the course of several years.

This, of course, included signing up for a government project that claimed to be willing to send _anyone_ to another dimension. There were about twelve of them on the day, all wandering about in a shopping center whilst they killed two hours before the first _Avengers_ film was being shown. "_Load of bollocks, right?_" James had laughed after they'd all signed up, as the group of their friends headed towards McDonald's for lunch. In the weeks that followed, they received a strange amount of letters telling them to provide a few things. Simple things, really: Clothing measurements, shoe sizes, medical documents, passports, and generally things you'd expect to have if you were going on some description of camping trip or holiday. Naturally, the group of mismatched social outcasts began to wonder if it really was going to happen, considering all the planning.

And a few weeks later, a bus showed up to take them to Heathrow, then on to Nevada.

The journey was long, but that wasn't Jack's main complaint on arrival: Aside from a few other young people that looked to be relatively normal in background, everyone else was either ex-military, in the military, in the police, or a criminal. That left them all with more questions than they started with, but no answers came: Instead came the ringing voice of a drill instructor, who proceeded to tell them that they no longer legally existed as people. They were designated barracks in some military establishment, their records had effectively ceased to exist on official records, and from that point on, they were going to be trained as _scientific tools with self-defence capabilities_.

The training was tough. Jack had broken his arm during the assault course and been forced to finish, while another part of the training involved being _shot_ and forced to run a half mile whilst bleeding out. One of the Chinese trainees, whose name for the life of him Jack couldn't remember, received a punctured lung, and never made it to the finish. The instructors just took that as proof that some people weren't cut out for the task. Jack was the only one who barely felt a thing: Considering one major spine surgery had left him unable to feel a few patches of skin on his torso, the bullet entered painlessly (and sat there painfully), striking a rib and blocking the hole that the blood would have come out of.

From there, the training had aspects of science put into it. Biology, mostly, but some aspects of chemistry and physics for the purpose of making medicine from some plants, and throwing grenades with velocity rivaling most professional cricketers and accuracy to match a mortar. Then came the more high-demand tests; tactical training, moving and shooting, shooting in different body positions, hand to hand combat, combat with close-quarters weapons, advanced driving, and all the others inbetween.

Heck, Jack didn't even have a real driver's license and he already knew how to lock the accelerator in place so he could steer with his foot and keep his hands on his gun.

By the end of it, they were all real-life action movie heroes, having gone through the training reserved for the best of the best.

After a whole year, they were given five days (under guard by a Predator drone) to visit one location of their choosing on Earth and say goodbye. Obviously, none of them had expected that it would be the last time they saw the places they visited. Heck, the last time they saw their own _world_. Thus, Jack, James, Josh, Luke, and all the others from their social group that had made it through training chose to go on one last trip to England: Where it all started, and ultimately where it all might end.

And to celebrate on the last day, they went back to the town, walked past the same spot they'd signed up at, had a McDonald's, and then went to the cinema. He couldn't remember what they'd watched. It didn't matter. They weren't going back. To think the last time he'd been there before his training was when he was a slightly overweight, basically useless young lad with a dull future.

_'Now look at me,'_ he thought. _'Never would have expected to be in another universe, in a woman's kitchen, fiddling with one of the most powerful handguns available, and it's __**mine**__.'_ He smiled, adjusting the rear sight whilst he leaned on a wall, gently whistling _God Save the Queen_ to himself as he did so. The darker corridor leading to the living room was rather small, so he did have to crouch to get through, but the darkness made him wonder if he was supposed to be checking the CCTV or the lights or something. Before he could consider closing the door for a moment, there came a light groaning from down the hall. "Must be MAGES.," he muttered, standing up and beginning to make his way to the doorway. As he reached to open it, he remembered a crucial detail: He still had his Desert Eagle drawn. "Could've ended badly if I walked in with this in my hand..."

Slipping it back into its holster, he finally pushed the door open to enter MAGES.' room. It was a rather cramped place: All around lay mechanical components and strange gizmos, mounted on walls were accolades and awards, and in the centre of all this, MAGES. herself lay under the bedcovers. She was shifting her head and scrunching her nose up slightly, so she was waking up in a rather adorable way, meaning Jack would be better off not just looking menacingly over the end of her bed. Casting a glance around the room, he saw a chair, so he pulled it up and sat in it, the seat creaking under his weight. He was almost tempted to yell at it for basically complaining he was too heavy, but then the blue-haired woman in the bed let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering open. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, before suddenly wincing and grabbing her forehead with her left hand as she propped herself up slightly with her right elbow. "Goodness," she groaned, casting a dazed glance about the room. "What...? Oh, not again..." It was only after a few seconds that she noticed Jack, squinting at him for a moment before going wide eyed, panickedly scrambling away and clutching her bedcovers to her chest. "W-Wait! Wh-Who are you?! Were you watching me sleeping?!" Jack quickly raised his hands defensively against the accusation.

"Woah, no, not a chance of me doin' tha-"

"Pervert!" MAGES. cried, pointing a finger at him. "Pervert _pervert PERVERT __**PERVERT!**_" Jack kept his hands raised.

"Jesus, calm the fuck down, I helped carry you up here after yo-_stop throwin' shit at me_!" He was forced to duck, as a gear flew past his head and smacked into a wall behind him. MAGES. was throwing anything she could grab at him, including dirty looks. As he dodged, he tried explaining. "Listen! I walked into the shop, you blew summat up, and the force threw you back and smacked your head on the shop counter! I helped carry you up here, for fuck's sake! I'm the bloke that you were talkin' to on the night of the bank robbery, remember?" MAGES. lowered the nailgun she was aiming at Jack's forehead, and thought for a moment.

She narrowed her eyes. "Were you with another man that evening?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yeah," Jack replied, dropping his hands. "And you were with your sister, 5pb. or Lyrica or whatever you personally called her." She put the nail gun flat, but didn't un-narrow her eyes.

"What was I wearing?"

"Uh...a hat." MAGES. sat up. She could trust him. She also now remembered who he was. Jack didn't understand why she'd remember that specifically because she was wearing a hat when her lab blew up, as well. She grabbed the maroon-framed nailgun and placed it back on the bedside table, before returning to looking at Jack with a facial expression implying she was barely interested.

"I see," she muttered, eyeing him up and down. "And I might also inquire as to why are you in my room?" Jack shrugged at that one.

"Well, I was in the hall, fiddlin' with my pistol, and then I heard you wakin' up, so I thought it'd be best to get you up to speed once you were awake." He cast a glance to one of the gears that was embedded in the wall after MAGES.' panicked assault. "Not too sure if sittin' next to a sleepin' woman's bed was the best decision, to be honest." The wizard took all this in for a moment.

"I see..." she repeated softly, then suddenly speaking up again. "Would you mind 'getting me up to speed', then?"

Jack nodded. "You exploded summat downstairs. Then you flew out the back room door. Then you smashed your noggin on the back of the counter and knocked yourself out. James and I were talkin' to your friend Tekken, and then your weird kaboom thing happened, so we offered to help her get you upstairs, which we did. James is in the livin' room, Tekken's talkin' to James, and I'm explainin' this to you."

"My lab exploded?" MAGES. asked, stunned.

"Well, summat blew up. Huge cloud of dust or summat. Haven't seen that much white smoke since I watched a documentary on Syria's White Phosphorous use on civilians." MAGES. frowned, shaking her head and lowering the covers slightly. Jack could now see the shoulder straps for her bra, and he began to wonder if this was going to end well for him.

"I do hope my lab is OK..." She muttered quietly to herself, and before Jack could point out her lack of apparel, she unflinchingly whipped the covers away and stood up.

For a few moments, Jack had laid eyes upon Eden: MAGES. was incredibly well-formed, with her long, straight blue hair dropping down her back to cover her bra strap and just reach the middle of her back. For her size, she had rather long legs, and a slender frame to go with them: She was a small, blue-haired Gwyneth Paltrow, and she was just about to start getting her clothes on. Jack was already looking to his left in the chair he was sat in, facing directly away from MAGES. and covering any view of her half-naked body he might have had (a small mirror not included, so he would be able to flick his eyes over and check if she was done) as she began to put on clothes. She was paying no heed to his presence. "You did ensure my equipment remained intact, did you not?" she asked, nonchalantly bending over to put her leggings on. Jack remained momentarily silent.

"I probably shouldn't be in the same room as you when you're half-naked, y'know," he said finally. MAGES. cast him a glance with her usual, uninterested expression, before turning to face him. His eyes drifted to the mirror. _'Oh my God, she's at least a C cup._' He swallowed hard.

"Indeed, you should not be present," the woman noted, drawing her tights up her legs. "However, I am willing to ignore my lack of garments in order to gleam answers from you." Jack wasn't sure what he was meant to do now. "So, did you or did you not check my lab for any major structural damage?"

"Oh. Uh, well, no, we didn't." He couldn't help but cast a glance into the mirror, watching her putting on her dress so he could get one last view of her heavenly body. If James were to walk in at that moment... "Pretty sure your potential concussion was a bit higher on our list of priorities." MAGES. shrugged slightly.

"I suppose so," she noted, adjusting her sleeves. "However, I still have some concern over structural damages, along with several other concerns." Jack raised a brow, lowering his hand from his face and looking at the now fully-dressed MAGES., minus her hat. She kicked the base of the staff that leaned on a nearby wall, which caused it to perform a flip that defied most laws of physics as it expertly landed in the magician's waiting hand, before she turned to face her male visitor. Jack stood up from his seat, once again towering over her.

"And what're those concerns, then?" he asked, moving over and holding the door open for MAGES. to exit through. She offered a nod of appreciation, and exited into the cramped, dark corridor where Jack had previously been evaluating his life choices and the pistol he was rather frightened of firing again.

"Firstly, the possible alarm caused to neighbouring buildings," she began. "That might have sounded like a terror attack plotting gone awry." Jack wanted to make a joke about either Al-Qaeda or the IRA, but refrained, both to avoid offending readers and because he knew MAGES. wouldn't get it. "Secondly, I'm concerned that I may have scared off a few potential customers to Tekken's shop, and scared Tekken herself." So it was only Tekken's shop? Did they both pay rent or something? "And third, I am concerned about your status as a man." Jack's eyes went slightly wide in surprise.

"Wait, _my_ status as a man?" he asked in disbelief, following MAGES. into the kitchen as she went to get a drink of what looked to be...Pepsi? "What is there to fuckin' doubt? I'm carrying about five different guns, I swear all the time, I stop bank robberies, I'm fairly certain that after years of looking down that I _am_ male, and all that other guff! Why're you doubtin' my manliness?" MAGES. shrugged, sipping her drink with the bored expression that Jack was now used to.

"In my room, I was getting changed from my undergarments," she began, "And yet you looked away. Whilst I am not suggesting you look at me when I change, on the contrary actually, I wonder why you did not take the opportunity to view my semi-naked form, which is a chance many men would have leapt upon." Jack scratched the back of his head briefly.

"Uh..." he trailed off. He needed an answer, _fast_. What about...yeah, that'd do. "...I don't perv because I respect women?" MAGES. gave him her blank expression.

"I see." She made no effort to display that she knew if he was lying or not, keeping her arms folded and staring up at him. The kitchen went silent for a few minutes as MAGES. finished her drink. Jack stood, deciding to pull out his Desert Eagle pistol and further assess it. The woman opposite him raised a brow.

"There is no way in Gamindustri that you can fire that," she said flatly. Jack made his '_pfft_' noise, rolling the end of the barrel on his hand.

"On the contrary, MAGES.," he replied smartly, pointing it dead ahead of him in his right hand whilst putting his left hand in his pocket, all the while tilting his head in mock aim. "This is an IMI Desert Eagle XIX, chambered in forty four Magnum. It's like a revolver that you can't fire one handed, and it looks like a pistol. It's chambered in large calibers like fifty AE, three five seven Magnum, and forty one Magnum. No other pistol is as powerful as this, unless it's a revolver." MAGES. said nothing, choosing to look at the gun.

"The recoil on it is likely ludicrous," she finally announced, causing Jack to look at her in confusion. "Furthermore, the slide and barrel are not offering enough space for any possible combination of recoil reduction springs available to Gamindustrimen. Thus, I believe an appropriate addition to your sidearm to reduce the recoil and increase control would be a...'stock', and a 'foregrip', if those are their correct titles." Jack now stared at her even more blankly. Then he looked at the gun, considering.

She did have a point.

His wrists still ached considerably since the skirmish outside the city. He'd only fired the gun a few times there, and that was two handed, with his knees for support. What if he _did_ turn it into a rifle?

That'd be pretty useful, especially if he could find another Desert Eagle chambered in Fifty Action Express, so he could manufacture his own ghetto anti-tank rifle. Plus, he wondered if such a device would be even better than something like an AR15, since he'd be able to control it more easily and do more damage.

He looked up at MAGES., continuing to assess the pistol by tilting it left and right in his hand. "...points noted," he murmured, staring her in the eyes. Was she a wizard, or an engineer, or both? MAGES. offered no response in the way of emotion, briefly sipping her glass of what looked to be and smelled like Doctor Pepper.

"No trouble." She kept her own eyes fixated on his, assessing him as well as managing to be a damn slight intimidating.

There were no warm intentions. It was a basic addition for a poorly-designed firearm. As to why she suggested it, she just didn't like the premise of watching Mr. London break his own wrists like an imbecile. And for all she knew, he might even owe her a favour at a later date, with which she could use to her advantage. For instance, a few ingredients and materials for her experiments could _not_ be harvested without the use of force against the monsters carrying them: Mr. London and Mr. Hillman seemed to be ideal in that regard, and she could even go so far as to say that their application of force bordered prejudicial application of hyper-lethal force.

Her only worry was that if this favour did exist, there wouldn't be any monster left to harvest the required items from.


	9. Off to Planeptune

"Not a chance." Noire folded her arms, and pointed her head up. The other Goddesses that were present for the summit decided to just shift awkwardly as Jack glared at Noire. James stood to a side of the room, whistling gently to himself as he zeroed the scope of his Arctic Warfare using a maid's head as his reference.

"What? Why? C'mon, it's not that much of an ask," Jack retorted, moving his arms for emphasis, and dropping his shotgun from his shoulder into his waiting hands. "It's not like we can't defend ourselves."

"It rather is," Blanc said calmly, "And it's also an idiotic suggestion." Jack sighed.

"We just wanna go see if they're out there." There was a momentary pause, the only sound being the faint _clik_ as James turned the scope of his rifle another point. Finally, Vert stepped forwards, hands clasped in front of her as they usually were.

"And we know they're out there," she said warmly, "You should know they're out there. You kicked one of them in the face. That's proof enough that any of your worldsmen you encounter will be hostile." Jack moved his left arm in exasperation, momentarily facepalmed, and then gestured at her.

"Look, no matter how much you bring it up, I'm still gonna refuse to acknowledge that guy's existence. He's a fuckin' Communist," the green-shirted man said matter-of-factly. "And for all I care, that dick'ead can rot in prison, which he fuckin' would have done if he kept livin' in Eastern Europe, the twat."

"You kicked out a tooth," Vert replied flatly, her smile dropping to a more serious expression. "He's demanded to know who you are and wants you to meet him in prison, and I quote, 'so he can extract your fingernails and...have violent intercourse with every female you know of'." Blanc shifted uncomfortably, going slightly red at the thought.

"Well, that pussy'd need to go fuck himself as well. I've visited Glasgow, I know what a fuckin' prison's like, no chance of me goin' there again." He turned briefly to Noire, who was inhaling to call him a crook. "And fuck you, I said before, I'm an Englishman, not a fuckin' Australian." Noire let out a series of grumbles, folding her arms and pouting huffily. James paused his rifle inspection to clear his throat, turning the nine other eyes in the room towards him.

"Ah, just thought I'd chip in?" The other goddesses nodded. Neptune scrunched her nose, not really understanding why it was such a big deal, but nodded anyway. "One, Jack's actually Scottish. Not an Englishman." Jack offered a lethal glare.

"That makes me more than qualified to shove a claymore up your arsehole, you Welsh cunt," he growled, jabbing a finger towards him. Noire winced at the unusually harsh use of language.

"And two," James continued undeterred, "I don't see any issues with us going out to hunt for other guys from our world. If they are, as you said, 'hostile', we'd be doin' a good deed by bringin' them down. If they're not tryin' to kill us, then they can help with your problems, like we are." The goddesses looked at each other momentarily, different looks on each of their faces showing conflicting views. Finally, Neptune spoke up.

"I think it's a great idea!" she beamed, bouncing slightly. "I see absolutely no flaws with this, and you'd be able to have your own spin-off story from the main show!" Jack frowned.

"There it is again, you refer to a 'show' and a 'story', what do you even fuckin' mea-?"

"Mr. Hillman's point in mind," Vert interrupted, "This seems like a much more reasonable plan. However, we would need a way to keep an eye on you. Otherwise, I can accept this idea." Blanc, looking up, nodded.

"I suppose Mr. Hillman made a good point," she added quietly. "Thus, as Vert mentioned, I would accept if there were an easy way to watch over you two."

"Maybe we could just get someone we trust to follow them?" Noire suggested, unfolding her arms and putting her right hand on her hip. "That way, if they try to run, it can not only be reported, but also stopped right then and there!" Jack and James looked at each other, in the way that both lads had agreed meant that the suggestion being made would probably get them killed in some way, shape, or form. The goddesses, completely blind to the larger boys' worried looks, nodded eagerly and let out a small chorus of approval.

"I shall contact Leanbox's SMD," Vert smiled, withdrawing a phone from her cleavage and tapping some buttons. "We could certainly have an agent on standby, I'm sure of it."

Jack had a look of absolute confusion now plastered on his face as he looked at Vert. "Were you genuinely storin' that phone in your tits?" he asked bluntly. Vert nodded without hesitation, as Blanc frowned slightly.

"I also store a live firearm in my bosom, as well as my emergency money and a hand warmer." Jack stared in complete and utter bewilderment, and James looked at Vert with interest.

"...fuckin' hell, if you don't mind me askin'," Jack continued, "Is the gap, like, a bottomless hammerspace or summat? I can barely even conceal a Beretta inside my shirt, and you just store money and guns inside your boobs." Vert folded her arms and thought for a moment, her sad blue eyes looking up in thought as she gave her usual warm smile. Blanc's eye started twitching.

"I have not tested that, yet," she noted. "I may try that." Jack gave a grunt of acknowledgement as Vert turned away. "Then it's settled. I shall notify Oracle Hakozaki to requisition an SMD agent. They'll be present and waiting for you when you next return to Leanbox." Jack's jaw nearly dropped as the goddesses moved away in their small group, on the way to their treaty discussion. He was trying to figure out how the hell they'd have a bloke ready with such little need, but apparently that was a normal thing for them to do. He kept his shotgun carried in his hands, and turned to look at James.

"After a year of workin' with the most underfunded project in the whole fuckin' world," he began, "Did that seem like it was too convenient to you?" James shrugged, clicking his rifle scope a few more times.

"Depends," said the Welshman as they both turned and began to move towards the basilicom's balcony area that they'd been visiting for the past few days, "Was the project really underfunded? They had us talkin' to SAS guys every other day, Rangers on other days, and drillin' hundreds of rounds down range on others. I'm just glad that they deemed drill movements unnecessary. That'd have been even more expensive and annoyin'."

"Fuck drill. And you've got a point. Anyway, why're we bein' babysat? We've already shown we can handle ourselves."

"Speak for yourself," James retorted, "One of those fuckin' Ancient Dragons nearly killed me when I first showed up in Lowee. Blanc saved me, I owe her my life." Jack looked at him, raising a brow as he held the door open for James to pass through.

"Are you fuckin' havin' a laugh? Are you a knight or some bollocks? You owe her a few _favours, _but not your whole fuckin' life."

"Oh, fuck off, I don't know why I bothered tellin' you about my sense of honour, anyway."

"Because I'm practically your best mate." James considered this for a moment as they sat down on chairs, overlooking Lowee. It was snowing rather heavily, but neither of them particularly cared.

"Fair point..." James mused. "But, anyway, I think it might be good for us. We'd have someone with us who knows what they're doin' and where they're goin'. Plus, for all we know, might be a woman, and you know how much I like the ladies here."

"They're barely up to your bloody chin, James," Jack said sharply, jabbing a finger at him as the greasy-haired boy laughed. "Plus, they're way too innocent to even think about in a dirty way. Look at Tekken: Poor lass was terrified when we came in! Shakin' like a lamb, I tell you."

"Then you hold them close and tell them it'll be OK," James said, flashing a grin. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Fuckin' creep. Anyway, besides them bein' too innocent, there's also none that I've found particularly attractive." Jack made every effort not to look like he was thinking of MAGES.' undeniably _amazing_ body.

"The fuck is wrong with you, lately?" James groaned. "Back home, you went on about girls all the time! Like...what's her face...Gwyneth somethin' or other?"

"Gwyneth Paltrow," Jack corrected as he pulled out his Skorpion and began to adjust its sighting, still trying to avoid giving away that he had compared MAGES. to Gwyneth Paltrow, "And she's hot because she's a tall redhead with long legs and she's apparently a nice woman. It's not all about looks, you knob'ead."

"Well, hold out, mate," James shrugged, "For all we know, there's a redhead out there that fits your bill and mindset."

"Already said, James, not here for women. Here for action."

"And with women you can get some action."

"Shut up. Why're we even out here?"

"Exposition, I suppose."

"Exposition?"

"Yeah, exposition, for the story."

"Fuckin' hell, can you _please_ just tell me how this is a fuckin' story?!"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No! Not at fuckin' all!"

"Then you're a fuckin' dick'ead."

"How?! For not knowin' what the fuck everyone means by this bein' a story?!"

"Basically. Anyway, did you even pick up on the goddesses representin' games consoles from Earth?"

"...what...?"

"You didn't pick up on the country names?"

"...no...?"

"Lowee? The Wii? Lastation? Playstation? Leanbox? Xbox?"

"Fuck off, are those related. Fine. Then what's Planeptune?"

"Like fuck if I know. But think about it! Lady Noire runs Lastation, and if I remember rightly from those French lessons where I _wasn't_ asleep, 'Noire' means 'Black'. And what colour is a Playstation 3?"

"Depends if you got it in a special edi-"

"Black. Same with Lady Blanc. 'Blanc' means 'White'. And what colour is a Wii console?"

"Mine was bla-"

"Fuck off, they're white."

"Fine. Then what're the younger sisters representin'?"

"Maybe...other consoles? Rom and Ram might be a nod to the DS."

"How? They're two separate fuckin' people, James. I'd be pretty pissed off if I needed to carry two separate parts for a handheld console."

"They might be top and bottom screens."

"You're thinkin' about this too hard. Anyway, the only thing I've seen here that's _remotely_ gamin' related is Tekken. Because she's called Tekken."

"Never played it. Was it good?"

"Meh, it was good. Definitely deserved credit for bein' fun, but I think people mostly ignored it because of fuckin' Street Fighter. That game was fuckin' terrible."

"Like how people preferred Call of Duty over games like Battlefield, even though they were literally the same fuckin' thing?"

"Basically, yeah. Most fighters were the same, and so were shooters."

"Well, alright then: What was your idea of a great game?"

"I liked classic shooters the best. Y'know, like _Doom_, and _Quake_, and _Serious Sam_. That kinda stuff, where you had ridiculous guns and speed and whatnot. Though, I was partial to a bit of modern FPS action, top-down, and third person shooters every once in a while."

"I remember when you invited me over and we ended up playin' that Hotline Miami game. That was a great night."

"Certainly bloody was! I still remember your first try had you run into a room and kill three men with a fuckin' saucepan! You were pretty good for someone who hadn't really touched PC before."

"Yeah, cheers, I tried. But for me, I liked the games at arcades where you had a gun. Like, _Time Crisis_ and whatever."

"On-rails shooters?"

"Yeah, they were good. I feel more comfortable shootin' things when I'm sat still. Though for you it must be different, considerin' how much you move around durin' a fight."

"That? Figured that'd be basic instincts to fuckin' move all the time."

"Eh. Not much for me. Feels kinda...weird. Better to move when there's nobody left around."

"But then they only have to go to one place, and you're sort of...stuck there."

"And all I have to do is turn and face the enemy. It's really ingenious."

"And all they have to do is shoot you from another angle."

"...fuck, that's a good point."

"Christ's sake, James. Anyway, you really think this 'babysitter' can hold us back?"

"Maybe." James sighed. The two went quiet, looking over the city below in silence as snow fell gently around them in a cold breeze. "Can't be all that bad, though," he said. Jack cast a quizzical glance over.

"How so?"

"Well, think about it. Lady Vert said she'd get Oracle Hakamekaze-"

"Hakozaki."

"-Hakozaki to get an agent ready. Then she said the agent'd be waitin' in Leanbox, right?"

"Right."

"Yeah. So you can probably get some explorin' done in Planeptune." Jack sat up, and looked at James head on.

"Wait, just me? You're not comin' with me?" he asked. "We have to be with each other! We're like the fuckin' Dynamic Duo! Chief and Arbiter! Taser and Cloaker!" James sadly shook his head, looking down slightly.

"Nah, I'm sorry," he sighed, "But Lady Blanc won't let me head to other countries yet. I only got taken to Leanbox so I could meet you, and since Lady Blanc found me in Lowee, I belong in Lowee until I can get official citizenship by doin' side work and gettin' a job." Jack frowned.

"Really? I got a citizenship in Lastation practically right away," he noted, causing James to groan loudly. "Then again, maybe that's because Lady Noire didn't expect me to do all the bloody paperwork in less than a minute."

"How much paperwork?" James asked, rubbing his forehead. In response, Jack raised his arm over his head, then held it over the ground. James exhaled. "You always were a quick writer..."

"Nah," Jack laughed. "I just drew a Lennie face on every page that needed signin'." James started chuckling as well.

"Mature," he snorted, "But I'd've drawn a dick on the page. Like, the _whole_ page," He emphasized his point by gesturing in an A4-sized circle with a hand. "Not one bit'd be left without a bit of a massive cock on it." Jack chuckled to himself for a moment.

"Mine's more subtle," he whistled, reclining slightly and looking back for a moment. He paused, causing James to look at where Jack was looking. "Speakin' of subtle." There, standing half-concealed by the doorway, was Lady Blanc. She had her usual, unreadable expression on her face, and was quietly observing the two from a distance. In spite of her blatantly warm-weather attire, she was standing with the door open and the icy breeze blowing into her face with the small goddess showing nothing in the way of discomfort. There was a moment of silence.

Over rushing winds, Jack was certain he heard one thing before she disappeared back behind the doorframe.

"_Stare..._"

_**Two days later...**_

After Jack had finished bidding Rom and Ram goodbye (which took a bit longer than expected due to their insistence that they would never see him again), he gave James a typical bro-handshake that was so epic that Lady Vert's clothes disappeared whilst Lowee blew up, and got on board the boat that was to take him to Planeptune. His transit was less of a secretive affair now that he had been out in the streets, so Lady Neptune (correction; _Miss_ _Histoire_) had opted to put Jack on a public ferry to avoid the irritating, time-consuming nature of private travel. Upon arrival in Planeptune (roughly a fourteen hour cruise), Jack would need to make his own way to the basilicom. He had nothing to worry about, though: Apparently it was 'dead obvious' which building it was.

He sighed, lying back with his knees over the end of the bed in the quarters he was assigned by his ticket. There was no chance he'd sleep on it: Too small. However, considering the rather small room's presence of an en-suite bathroom with a complimentary can of shaving foam, he decided he would probably do well by trimming the noticeable beard he had been growing over the previous weeks. Removing his green buttoned shirt, ballistic armour, and bandoliers, Jack stepped inside the small bathroom and crouched down to look in the mirror, setting the tap running. He didn't have a razor. His machete would do. He returned to his satchel, withdrawing the fairly large kukri-machete that had sat, unused, for the longest time, next to his other Skorpion that was still wrapped up in wax paper. He trudged back to the bathroom as the loud horn of the ship outside signalled that the boat would be leaving soon, then sighed.

He was going to _hate_ the next fourteen hours.

_**Fourteen painfully long hours later...**_

Once he had managed to retrieve the double-barrel and his beloved Mossberg from the Ship's Captain, he turned heel and began to make his way from the large dock that led up to the beginnings of a glistening city. Tugging his shotgun sling and ignoring the looks of amazement as he casually marched up three steps at a time due to his size, Jack cast a glance over his shoulder and flipped off the completely unaware Captain as she waved off other passengers. "Fuckin' gormless bitch," he muttered, "Not like I was gonna use my fuckin' guns anyway. And why just the shotguns? I had a massive fuck-off pistol strapped to my leg and two machine guns, not even countin' the bloody machete. Stupid twat." Shaking his head, Jack looked forwards again, and managed to stop himself from falling down a massive drop into the streets below. He stared at this in bewilderment, still clutching his shotgun sling as others observed him quietly.

The gap ahead passed straight between buildings, with platforms lining the sides of buildings at the same height as the ledge he was on. However, besides the massive blue rings that were floating between the buildings, he noticed that people were stepping off the ledge and flying. Well, not flying. More...standing on a hexagon, letting that carry them off into the distance. He also noticed that now, a lot of people were looking at him, and there were a few people in the largely female population that were pointing at him and giggling. Jack ignored that for a moment: Cautiously, he extended a foot over the gap, and to his bewilderment, a large, bright cyan hexagon appeared beneath his foot. Pressing his foot on it, it let out a hum, and it felt like he was putting his boot on concrete. He applied pressure.

Perfectly stable. No wobbling or shaking.

Huh.

"The fuck is this shit?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes and tapping on the hexagon a few times. He sighed after a moment, shaking his head. "Fuckin' black magic shite, I tell you what. Right. Here goes nothin'." Then, breathing what he thought to be his last breath, he stepped forward off the ledge, and onto the mysterious hexagon with both feet. A few people behind him clapped in mock congratulatory salute, to which he was tempted to respond with a loud gunshot into the air but decided against it. Instead, Jack let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and looked forwards towards the direction of the basilicom.

It only now struck him that he was, most definitely, out of his element.

A year ago, he never would have expected to be standing on a hologram, flying through a futuristic city towards the home of a god, all whilst armed to the teeth with guns that Britain would have never even let him see, let alone use. He could feel the reassuring weight of the double-barrel slung across his back, and the Mossberg resting in his hands. He barely noticed the weight of a Skorpion on his belt, another in his bag, and a Desert Eagle strapped to his leg. His clothes were a mix of his casual clothing from back home, and the tactical additions of arm and leg guards with bandoliers.

Could he be considered an action hero back on Earth? Slaying monsters, defending the innocent, and stopping crimes?

He chuckled quietly.

"I guess I could be..." he murmured, as he finally reached the stone path leading up to the basilicom. He hopped off the hexagon, nearly losing balance as he did so, and cast a glance back as it disappeared into a small hail of glowing blue light. He looked back towards the massive building (and equally massive walk) in front of him, and began to make his way there. He couldn't help but smile, and shake his head as he began to walk. "Absolutely mad."


	10. New Contacts

"At least security's more lenient," Jack mused, scratching his stubble as he stepped onto the elevator platform. The shave hadn't gone so well earlier on. He stopped through fear of accidentally filleting his neck using the machete. He ignored the fact that the lift was yet another floating blue hexagon, instead opting to gaze straight out over the massive lobby whilst he waited for the receptionist to send the lift on its way. She was busy dealing with a few other people, which allowed Jack time to assess the building. It was like a skyscraper; Glass pillars were everywhere, accompanied by colourful lights that lit up the entire area in a whole spectrum of glows. The staff he had seen were wearing clothes that were equally as vibrant, all dressed in purples and blues and reds of all shades.

And then there was Jack: lugging around a whole host of unforgivably intimidating guns, wearing military green and black, plus a pair of jeans that were still covered in frays, burn marks, small bits of spattering from the Dogoo massacre a week or so before and a pair of scuffed black Magnum boots. That didn't even take into account the few extra cuts he'd accidentally put on his face when he'd been 'shaving', the dirt staining his face in small quantities, and his blonde hair that gave him the image of a professional bank robber. All he needed was a stupid 'Heist Name', like 'New York', 'Manhattan', or 'Dallas', or something equally as daft.

Just as he returned to looking at the receptionist, waiting for her to send the lift up to the floor that Lady Neptune lived on, there came the sudden cry of "Wait a second!" Jack turned to look at the source, and was surprised to see two women of differing heights, colour preferences, and (most notably) cup sizes, quickly rushing to get onto the elevator. The first of the two, a rather short brunette with green eyes and an ill-fitting blue coat, stepped on first, prompting Jack to step back and give them both room on the hexagon-lifting-device. "Thanks for waiting," gasped the girl as her friend stepped on as well. "Normally a longer wait for a lift up." Jack shrugged, sizing them both up. They were shorter than him. His status as the tallest in the world remained.

"Not like I control the lift or anythin'," he replied calmly. "Did you run here?"

"Yeah," she smiled, dusting off the left side of her massive blue coat. "Like I said, we end up waiting for five or ten minutes for the lift to come down again." That raised Jack's brow.

"Ten minutes?" he whistled, shifting his weight. "Christ, that's even worse than back home. Anyway, which floor you headed to?"

"The goddess' quarters," she replied smoothly. "We were called by Lady Histoire, since she says she's not been feeling too well lately."

"So you're doctors, then?"

"Well, I'm not. Compa is, though." She gestured to the other, slightly taller woman with the pink hair and even pinker irises. She was wearing a cream-coloured wool jumper with a short red plaid skirt and a pair of long black stockings. On her head was a black band that went through her hair, with a large white '**C**' on it, and a black collar with a pink heart on it. Compa offered a beaming smile and a wave, with an unidentified 'squee' noise coming from nowhere. Jack was almost tempted to look around for the source, but then he remembered he was in a world where there were next to no men, and the only men he had met were his best friend and homicidal Russian gang members.

"Hi!" she said in a _very_ friendly voice. Jack offered his own smile, and a wave back.

"Afternoon," he replied, eyeing her over. The lift suddenly began a slow ascent, prompting Jack to look down at it in a slight panic, and almost raise his shotgun. Compa and the smaller woman looked at him in bemusement.

"You're not from around here, are you?" asked the brunette. Jack shook his head.

"Nope, not at all," he responded, straightening up. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you where I'm from."

"Well, you're too tall to be from anywhere in Gamindustri," she shrugged, assessing his height. "I'm average height for a woman here. Men are just a bit taller. You're..._huge!_"

"And the thing about that is that I'm about average height for a bloke where I'm from." Jack paused, and looked at Compa. "But are you considered tall in Gamindustri, then?" Compa nodded.

"Yup! My medical teacher said that it's the reason I'm so good at carrying bodies!" Jack looked at her in confusion.

"...you carry bodies?"

"Yessy! Basic training!"

"But you're supposed to make people better, ain't you?"

"Yep."

"So why're you trained to carry corpses?" Compa stood with her arms down by her sides, looking at him like he'd just made a startling accusation of her.

"...corpses?" she whimpered. Her face was already pale, and she looked to be on the brink of tears. Jack was quick to begin damage controlling, because the brunette looked like she was considering pushing him off the lift.

"N-No, no, I'm not sayin' you're killin' anybody, I'm just...wonderin'..." he trailed off. "But seriously, don't cry over it, your medical trainin' is much more safe than the trainin' I did to come here." He lifted up his shirt, revealing the scars from the year before: A large circular dent on his ribs from a nine millimeter handgun shot; a long scar over his stomach where he had been cut with a bayonet during CQC training; and a set of thick bite marks from a coyote attack in the wilderness. Compa stared at these in awe, whilst the brunette folded her arms and looked doubtfully at them. "Pistol shot, knife wound, bite mark. Don't think you'd get those workin' in a hospital."

"Wow..." Compa's eyes sparkled slightly, the colour returning to her face. She reached forwards slowly, and poked the larger gunshot scar on his lower ribs. Jack didn't feel her touching it, due to a lack of proper nerves there, but her fingers occasionally brushed the edge of the skin he could feel, causing him to shift slightly. "It must have hurt."

"Not particularly," he shrugged. "I can't feel anythin' there, anyway. Plus, the last person to see that wound was me. Before that, it was the person who gave it to me. So I'm certain it's better that an actual medical professional's seen it." Compa swallowed slightly, her expression wavering a bit.

"Um...Y-Yeah. _Professional_."

Now Jack was concerned.

When Compa finally stopped poking him like he was some exotic creature, the elevator had reached its destination. Jack's face was slightly flushed from how close the pink-haired woman had gotten, and the brunette (who Jack had learned was named IF, or 'Iffy') was equally as red-faced. Compa, however, was smiling to herself, standing between the two and turning her relatively short frame gently from side to side. IF was scratching the back of her head awkwardly, and Jack suddenly found his shotgun very amazing, deciding to examine it with a sudden interest. As the doors to Lady Neptune's home opened, the trio were met by the sight of what appeared to be a tiny blonde woman, almost fairy-like, sitting on an open book and hovering at about Jack's head height. She was, for lack of a better description, cute as fuck, barely a meter tall if he had to guess, and looking at the three of them suspiciously. "Hello, Miss IF, Miss Compa," she said calmly, before looking at Jack. "...Mr. Lovebun, was it?" Jack coughed, his eyes darting away from Compa and IF.

"No, no, it...it's London. Not Lovebun." The tiny person stared at them for a few extra moments.

"...were you engaging in lewd activities on the way up here?"

_**One awkward conversation later...**_

"...and for that reason, I ended up red-faced, Compa was smilin', and IF was red-faced." Jack finished the tale, scratching his chin. The small fairy, Histoire, nodded, as Compa put a thermometer into her ear with surgical precision.

"I see. That seems like an uncomfortable predicament," she replied, wincing slightly at the intruding object in her ear. Her voice wasn't angry, or that readable, to be honest. She was calm, and fairly friendly in tone, similar to Compa, Tekken, and Oracle Mina. That didn't stop Jack from raising a brow.

"Uncomfortable?" he asked. He was about to mention how most guys from Earth would be going crazy over having a female nurse (with a noticeably large front load) poking at their chest, when he was interrupted.

"It was," IF cut in, "And as much as I don't mind your presence, Mr. Loonygun, I don't want to have to look at your scars again. That was gross." Jack tilted his head.

"Noted..." he muttered, before looking back at Histoire. They'd all moved into what was basically a dining room, with Compa and Histoire sitting (or floating) at the table, whilst IF stood behind Compa and gave her doctoring things, and Jack leaned on a pillar opposite the table. "Speakin' of which, Miss Histoire?"

"Yes?"

"Are there any conditions for me bein' here?" he asked. "Because in Lastation, Lowee, and Leanbox, I ended up doin' side work for Lady Vert, Lady Noire, and Lady Blanc."

"Side work?" Histoire seemed to think for a second. "I'm not entirely certain what you mean."

"Like, in Lastation, I was lookin' after Lady Noire's sister, Uni, and in Lowee, I had to answer some questions for Lady Blanc." Jack explained whilst counting on his fingers, just to make sure he didn't somehow forget one of the _four_ countries in Gamindustri. "And in Leanbox, I had to give a speech or summat." IF suddenly perked up, looking at him in shock.

"Wait, that was _YOU?!_" she gasped. Jack, cautiously, nodded.

"Ah...yep. That, uh, that was me."

"I was in that stadium!" squealed the small woman. "I was, like, second row from the front, on the right! Did you see me?" Jack quickly shook his head.

"Didn't really focus on details. Big crowd. Sorry." IF deflated slightly.

"Aw, well, anyway, I normally go to those sort of gigs. Get as close as I can to the stage, get a better view, y'know?" She smiled. "You do have a gift for speaking."

"Not really," Jack replied dismissively. "I think my friends established I'm terrible at public speakin' when I managed to get forty out of fifty people at a school event to leave." He paused, thinking for a moment with a thoughtful expression. "That was a fun evenin'."

"You gotta be kidding," IF laughed. "Most of the stadium wanted an encore performance! That's a public request normally reserved for 5pb.'s gigs! I don't know what you did, but you got a _lot_ of people interested in hearing you speak again." Histoire suddenly coughed, causing Compa to reel back slightly from the little fairy in surprise.

"Excuse me, if I may?" she interjected. Jack nodded. "Do you mind if I ask what you two are discussing?"

"Oh, just a public speakin' thing I had to do in Leanbox. Apparently it went well. Lady Vert hugged me and started cryin' and sayin' I was a fantastic cunt, so I guess I did summat right." IF winced at the harsh language. Compa looked at him curiously.

"I see." Histoire said quietly. She gently sipped on her small cup of tea.

"Did she really call you that?" asked Compa. Jack shrugged.

"Wasn't really payin' much attention," he replied calmly. "And if you don't mind me askin', Miss Histoire, but why's it important? Did I do summat bad?" The tiny blonde quickly shook her head, smiling.

"Not at all!" she beamed. "If anything, you have given me an idea. I shall have to discuss this with Neptune when she returns from Lowee." Jack stood up from his position on the pillar, deciding to pace a bit.

"She still ain't back?" he asked. "Don't that mean Planeptune's Oracle is runnin' the joint?"

"Indeed."

"And might I ask who the Oracle is?"

"You're talking to her," IF grinned, Histoire nodding in calm appreciation.

"Yes," she said, "When Lady Neptune isn't around to run the country, I take her place." Jack was certain he saw her mutter something under her breath, before she continued. "As I was saying, Lady Neptune will not be returning for another few hours. That means I'll be able to explain to you your duties here in Planeptune's basilicom." Jack gave a nod.

"Certainly," replied the Brit, "Pretty sure it'd be best to let Compa finish dealin' with your ailments and whatnot." The nurse in question gave a beaming smile.

"I'm done here, anyway," she cut in, before turning to Histoire. "You've just got a cold from what I can see, so what I suggest is plenty of rest." The fairy nodded.

"Of course, Miss Compa. I greatly appreciate the advice." She extended a hand, which Compa responded to by extending her index finger in an exceptionally adorable handshake between the two. Jack resisted the urge to d'aww. Instead, he turned to IF.

"So, you just came up here with Compa?" he asked her. The brunette nodded.

"Yeah. I come here with Compa quite a lot," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. Probably. Jack couldn't see her hands due to her massive sleeves, but he was certain they were on her hips. "We know Nep-Nep and Nepgear fairly well." Jack tilted his head.

"Who the hell are 'Nep-Nep' and 'Nepgear'?" IF facepalmed briefly.

"Oh, right, you're not from around here...Nep-Nep is what we call Neptune. Nepgear is her younger sister, the CPU Candidate," she explained. Jack nodded in complete understanding of the situation.

"I didn't even know she had a sister," he murmured, before idly scratching his chin and glancing out the window. IF groaned, and walked over to Compa as the significantly taller man slowly paced outside onto the balcony, drawing his Skorpion and beginning to fiddle with it in an almost nonchalant manner. The city had a significantly different aesthetic style to Leanbox, Lowee, and Lastation: In the place of snow, green fields, or massive factories, Planeptune had a much shinier appearance with huge glass skyscrapers and, as he'd experienced firsthand, a pretty awesome transit system that was _centuries_ ahead of anything from Earth. For a brief moment, Jack wondered how Earth was doing. Were they bothered by the fact that the criminals and ex-forces guys they'd sent away hadn't come back?

Oh well.

Considering how those Russian mobsters had acted by attempting a poorly planned bank robbery, it seemed blatantly obvious to Jack that if any more people from Earth were to show up, there'd only be a small chance that they would have nicely settled into society, with a higher chance that they'd be causing problems. And if those problems became _big_ problems, then Jack and James would be the only people experienced in dealing with armed opposition. Unless, of course, Josh, Luke, or any of the other guys showed up. In which case, if all of his friends were to show up, he knew their senses of justice well enough that their presence as a group would mean the goddesses would have an effective, quick response force to any troublemakers from Earth. Plus, as another reason his friends would more than likely help, they had all received significant torment during the year's training; Stolen and destroyed personal effects, verbal and physical abuse, one attempted rape (Big Tyrone don't take no for an answer, as Luke once said), and the list went on and on. Thus, considering their treatment, he was certain his social group would be more than happy to make sure that if the thugs returned, they'd be leaving in handcuffs, or in a bag.

It was as he pondered the tactical advantages of the basilicom's balcony as a mortar point when he heard footsteps behind him. In spite of his training telling him that he was supposed to turn around with his weapon drawn and glinting dramatically in the sun, he realized that most of the 'instinct' training was pointless, since he was going to be in safe company for a while. Thus, he turned, and saw a young girl, roughly his age or possibly a bit younger, stepping onto the balcony. She had long hair of a similar colour to Lady Neptune with a single pin in it, pink and white striped leggings, lilac eyes, and a yellow scarf over a white coat with purple trim. She was eyeing Jack cautiously, her worried expression flicking from the gun in his hands, to his face, then to the door into the living area. After a moment of this, the girl stopped, and leaned slightly to the door.

"Um, Histy?" she called through. Her voice wasn't quite as grating as Lady Neptune's, but was just as friendly. Maybe Planeptune was just very friendly in general. She didn't exactly seem to be looking too optimistic about the partially-armoured and heavily armed goliath that was standing on the basilicom's private balcony, fiddling with a menacing-looking gun. The response from 'Histy' was quick.

"Yes, Nepgear?" came the reply.

"Uh, there's a...creepy...armed...person...on the balcony." There was a pause. "Is he meant to be there?"

"That's Mr. Lovebu-"

"**LONDON.**" Jack interjected sharply, causing 'Nepgear' to recoil slightly.

"...Mr. As-He-Said," Histoire continued, still not leaving the living area or even showing her adorable little Aryan self. "He's the one Neptune attributes to helping in the creation of these peace talks, and as it stands, he is in service to each nation's goddess. For the time being, he will be staying here in Planeptune." Nepgear listened to this intently, not removing her worried gaze from Jack her hands from their clasped position in front of her, or her stance from being leaned slightly away from him to listen to Histy. "It would be polite to introduce yourself, Nepgear. He will be here for a few days." Jack decided now would be the best time to put his Skorpion away, letting it drop into the holster on his belt as Nepgear cautiously made her way over. Something didn't feel right. When she finally stood at a relatively safe distance of two and a half meters away, she cleared her throat, still looking worried.

"...hi."

Jack had his hands in his pockets, and he nodded with a relatively bored expression.

"Afternoon."

Nepgear swallowed slightly.

"U-Umm."

"You're Nepgear, right?"

"Uh, yes. That...that's me. Nepgear. CPU Candidate for Planeptune."

"Right. Sounds like a fancy job."

"Not really. I just...sort of...help with things."

"Like...politics, or summat?"

"...what's a 'summat'?"

"Summat. Somethin'. If I say 'somethin'' too quickly with my accent, it turns into 'summat'."

"Oh. OK."

"So all I was askin' was if you help with politics."

"Nope. I don't understand politics."

"Well, great. Neither do I. Lot of politics back where I'm from."

"Where are you from? Your accent's really strange."

"Trust me, you're probably not gonna believe me if I tell you I'm not from this world. Or dimension. Or whatever this place is to my world."

"..."

"..."

"...uhh, Histy? Are you sure this man's not crazy?"

"Told you you wouldn't believe me."

"You're not from another world!"

"Well, where am I from then? Gamindustri doesn't bloody look like anywhere on Earth, I'll tell you that now."

"You might just be from some island where people are rude and have weird accents."

"Yep, that's England. I'm from the North of England, then I moved to the South, near London."

"Where's London?"

"Good! Someone can finally pronounce my name! Anyway, it's the capital city of England."

"Your name is Loafpun? Why would your parents give you that name?"

"...n-no, it's London, you just said it."

"Loafpun."

"No, you just said the name of the city."

"London?"

"YES, THAT ONE. I have the same last name as that place, so my name is...?"

"Mr. Glovebox."

Jack facepalmed.

"For fuck's sake."

Just then, before Jack could attempt to fight against the running joke any more, Histoire came floating out onto the balcony with IF and Compa in tow. The tiny Aryan was smiling at Nepgear and Jack, blissfully unaware of the confusion between both of them. "You two seem to be getting along well." She looked at Jack, not having to look up because she hovered at his head height. "Have we discussed your sleeping and accommodation arrangements yet?" Jack raised a brow.

"Nope. Thought that was already set out, or summat." IF quietly asked Compa what a _'summat'_ was, receiving only a shrug as an answer. Histoire shook her head.

"We do not have the space, unfortunately. We had first considered giving you a spare bedroom, but now that I can see how large you are..." she trailed off. Jack could see her tiny eyes looking worriedly up and down at him. "I doubt you would fit the bed properly and not suffer discomfort or cramps."

"Why don't I just sleep on the balcony or summat?"

"I refuse to make or let you sleep outside."

"Seriously? I trained a whole year in the arts of sleepin' outside. I went a month without going _inside_. I ate coyotes and deer for a month and killed an angry bear with a campin' fork, and you say I can't sleep outside?"

"I would not be able to sleep properly in the knowledge you are outside, uncomfortable, on a stone brick floor."

"Have you _tried_ the mattress I slept on at my house? That literally was concrete. Just let me sleep out here."

"No."

"There's no arguin' this, is there?" IF, Compa, Nepgear, and Histoire shook their heads.

"Nope," IF replied. "If Histoire says something, she won't rest until it happens."

"Then where else am I gonna stay?" Jack asked exasperatedly, gesturing around. "Sure, this is a city, but I doubt they do hotels that accommodate massive blokes like me." Compa considered this silently.

"The least you could do is look around," IF smiled. "For all you know, there might be one with extra large beds." Histoire raised a tiny hand.

"Perhaps you could sleep on a double bed, but at an angle? That might afford extra space, if you apply basic shape knowledge."

"That's if there's a bed that can take my weight as a person. Might not look it, but I'm pretty bloody heavy."

"Mayne you weigh less without your weapons and clothing?" Nepgear suggested.

"I'm never gonna take my clothes off!" Jack snapped, folding his arms defensively. "I shower with clothes on, I sleep with clothes on, I swim with clothes on, I bathe with clothes on. You can't get me to take 'em off." Histoire looked flatly at him.

"...dare I ask why?"

"I...don't...like the idea that I'm in a society comprised almost entirely of women and still have to remove my clothes."

"Is that really it?" IF asked exasperatedly. "Some teenage cowardice around girls? You won't even be seen by women!"

"How do I know someone won't walk in? And anyway, I really do not like takin' my clothes off. Trust me, I have bad memories. Don't wanna bring 'em up. Anyway, I'm not takin' my clothes off. That means bedframes need strength, which I doubt many of them have." There was silence as Jack pushed away bad memories of high school changing rooms, and IF and Histoire considered how bad his previous life must have been if he was terrified of removing clothes to be seen by the opposite sex.

"You could stay in my flat."

All eyes, surprised, turned to Compa, who was standing with a gentle smile on her face.

"My apartment's...kinda small. But I have a spare room with nothing in it. You could set up a bed in there with some cushions...or something." IF stared at her, almost as amazed as Jack was.

"C-Compa, are you sure? You hardly know this guy!"

"I hardly know any of my patients," retorted the nurse, "And I still have to make their beds, clean up their mess, bring them food, push them around the hospital, put them into fresh clothes, and look after them. Those people can't really look after themselves in the states they're normally in, so someone who _can_ look after themselves would be nice company." The pink-haired woman smiled up at Jack. "This also means I'd have extra hands around my apartment to do things. Like moving my couch!" Jack raised a brow, smiling.

"Move your couch? Do you move it often?"

"Most nights, I move it so I can set up training equipment in my living area. By the time I've moved it, I'm so tired that I normally end up falling asleep practising CPR. You could help with that kinda thing, and I could let you sleep in the spare room." She reached behind her and pulled out a piece of paper with a pen. The paper was covered in text.

"What's this?" Jack asked, as the nurse handed him the sheet. His hands dwarfed the pen and paper into something comparable to a slightly large post-it note, so he struggled to read the text. Compa stepped back, with her hands behind her back and an innocent smile.

"A contract," she replied smartly, closing her eyes and offering a beaming smile. "It's just so you know that if you break anything then it's your fault, not mine." Jack couldn't see that in the text. Christ, he couldn't read the text.

"Ah, right," he nodded, still squinting, before shrugging, and placing the paper onto his left forearm, signing on the dotted line using the pen. He paused, casting a glance over to Compa. "And you're sure you're fine with me stayin' in your house for the next few days?" Compa flashed a grin.

"Whenever you need a place to stay in Planeptune, you can come and stay with me!" she beamed, closing her eyes, putting her hands behind her back and gently turning from side to side. Jack chuckled lightly, shaking his head and finishing his signature.

"If you're certain it's fine," he murmured, before finally clicking the pen and handing both articles back to Compa. She looked the contract over briefly, narrowing her peach-like irises, then nodding in approval, smiling as she put it in her bag.

"Absolutely!" she replied cheerfully. IF, however, looked worried. She leaned over to Compa.

"_How much of the small text is he not gonna like?_" Compa's smile didn't drop, and neither did her pleasant expression.

"_The small text is all squiggly lines, but from what I saw, he couldn't read the normal sized text,_" whispered the nurse. "_I can make stuff up and say it's on his contract._" IF stared at her in shock, then smiled wickedly.

"_This is why I've been your friend for this long, you minx._" Compa laughed, prompting IF to join.

Jack didn't know what they were laughing about. He looked to Nepgear, gesturing to the laughing duo. "You, ah, know what they're...?" The lilac-haired girl shook her head, a blank expression on her face.

"Nope."


	11. Slippy Soaperinos

Within moments of entering Compa's apartment, Jack's eyes were assaulted by a wide variety of pinks and whites. Since she'd arrived about ten or twenty minutes before (due to Jack not being able to take the elevator and getting caught up in the lobby by a crowd of people that knew his face from Leanbox), Compa had placed her doctoring bag on the table, stretched herself in an adorable way whilst making a squeaking noise when she felt something click, then let herself flop onto the cream couch face first, her pink hair spread out behind her head and her moderately long legs with the fluffy warmers hanging just over the edge of the chair. Jack stood there, clutching his Mossberg and occasionally rolling his shoulder to alleviate the weight of the double-barrel that was slung over his back, considering how out of place he was. He momentarily wondered if carrying the chainsaw would make him seem even more out of place in Compa's cutesy little apartment. Just then, the nurse rolled over, stretching again with a yawn, and then looked at Jack. "Oh, now that we're here, could you please take a shower, Mr. Lovebun? No offense, but you're...a little...smelly." Jack shook his head.

"I doubt I'll fit in the shower. And it's London, not Lovebun." Compa scrunched her face up slightly.

"I thought you wanted someone to stay with..." she muttered, folding her arms and putting on a huffy expression. Jack moved into the kitchenette, and leaned on the island. He almost felt like something moved in the cupboards beneath him, but ignored it.

"Yes, I do, and I thank you for your hospitality," replied the Englishman, shifting slightly. "But I would physically not fit in your shower. My head is nearly touchin' your ceilin'. Can't exactly have a shower if I can't get beneath the shower'ead, can I?" Compa thought for a moment.

"Then what about a bath?" she asked. She still didn't move from her lying position on the couch. Thankfully, Jack wasn't able to see up her skirt, otherwise he wouldn't be able to look at her the same way.

"Bath?" he repeated, mulling the word over. "Been ages since I had one of those...once again, though, I doubt I'd fit in the tub." Now it was Compa's turn to shake her head.

"There's a public bath down the road," she replied, sitting up, "I doubt anyone would be there at this time, so you won't have problems with being seen naked." Jack winced slightly.

"Well, that's the problem. You _doubt_ there's anyone down there. But there might be. Right?"

"It's possible, yeah. But unlikely, because only weird people go out to a public bath this late."

"And that includes me?"

"Yup!" Compa hardly even registered she'd called him weird. Instead, she rolled around on her couch for a few seconds, stretching out (as Jack had assumed) and humming to herself with a cheerful expression. Finally, he sighed.

"Fine, I'll go," he groaned. "But I'm not sure where it is-"

"You can't miss it."

"-if I'll fit-"

"It'll be fine."

"-if they'll let me in-"

"It's not girls' only night, so you'll get in OK."

"-how I'm payin'-"

"It's free."

"-and what I'm even meant to do at a...public bath."

"Do what you do when you're having a bath, I guess. Just...wear a towel."

"Wear a towel in the bath?"

"Um, yes, I think that's what you're supposed to do. Just find out when you get there."

"How long do I have?"

"I'll leave the door unlocked. Just remember to lock it when you come back in."

"Right. Oh, and what do I wear when I leave?"

"Your clothes."

"My clothes are probably the thing that fuckin' stinks in the first place."

"Do you wanna leave them here and go out in your undies?" Compa asked. She didn't seem hostile in asking. _It was a genuine question._ Jack raised his hands defensively.

"Nah, I'm good, I'll...see if I can, uh, get these cleaned. Or summat." Compa nodded, and gave a small 'ah' of understanding. She then rolled over and began reading a book that was on the table. Jack stood there silently for a moment. "Oh...Compa?"

The nurse quickly turned her head, feet still swinging about behind her. "Yessy?" Jack looked at her for a second or two.

"Cheers for this."

"No problem. I've needed a roommate for a while. I just...wasn't expecting an alien. I'll probably be asleep when you get back, so..." Jack chuckled, and opened the door.

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in all quiet. Good evenin', Compa."

"Nighty night, Mr. Lunny."

The door clicked shut behind Jack, and simultaneously, four people let out gasps of relief and fell from their hiding spots behind curtains, in the cupboard beneath the kitchen island, and under the table. IF, who was brushing off cobwebs from her in-the-dark-cupboard experience, looked at Compa. "Nice one, Compa," she grinned. "That's him gone for the evening. Where'd you learn to act that well?" The nurse rolled onto her back, and looked at her childhood friend, putting her hands behind her head.

"Sometimes, I need to tell patients it'll all be fine." She paused, momentarily frowning. "But it's...not." IF chuckled, as MAGES. stepped towards them.

"I still do not understand why he is here," she said flatly. "I assumed you had invited Tekken and I over for catching up." Compa smiled.

"And I did!" she beamed. "It's just that Mr. Lunny was at the basilicom, and when we were on the lift up, he showed us some scars he had which were _**REALLY **_cool, and then it turned out he didn't have anywhere to stay, so I leapt at the chance!" The wizard tilted her head, as Tekken timidly made her way over.

"Is he gone?" she asked quietly. MAGES. nodded, and Tekken's expression brightened up. "Goodie! Now we won't have him being rude whilst we're all talking!" IF squinted slightly, shrugging.

"I dunno, he seemed OK to me, if a little bit intimidating," she mused, sitting at the end of the couch where Compa's feet now rested on her lap. "I mean, for the whole time I was at the basilicom visiting Histy and Nepgear, all he did was listen to Histoire giving him his duties, answer a few questions, ask a few, then sit on the balcony with his guns and clean them. That was it. He didn't seem..._rude_, or anything. I think the only thing I didn't like him doing was creeping out Nepgear. And Nepgear likes everyone!" MAGES. put the weight of her hands onto her cane, sitting on a chair she had pulled up.

"Indeed," the magician nodded, "And from my previous experience, he and his companion defeated a pair of armed thugs, in the process protecting a large number of innocent Leanbox citizens. Furthermore, he did display concern over my well-being, however he did so by observing my whilst I was unconscious." Compa gasped.

"_Perv..._" she whispered. MAGES., however, shook her head.

"In actuality, you may be surprised to know he showed significant respect for my modesty when I got changed in front of him: He covered his eyes whilst I changed, thus proving he was not some peeping opportunist." There was silence as the three other girls took in the information.

"...why did you get changed in front of him?" IF asked, raising a brow. Compa giggled.

"I think she wanted him to see what she has." MAGES.' face went bright red.

"N-No!" she squealed, almost drowned out by the combined laughter of Tekken, IF, and Compa. "I-I was not thinking clearly! I had j-just been unconscious, s-so...I...got changed. Into my clothes. And...he...was present." IF sat up momentarily, wiping a tear from her eye.

"Yeah, _as if!_" she snorted. "Looks like the 'Mad Magician' has her eye on a new assistant!" Tekken began clutching her stomach, going completely red faced as she gave an uncharacteristically hearty laugh, whilst Compa rolled onto her front again, slamming her fist on the arm of the chair as she chortled loudly. IF was on the floor, holding her gut with both arms as she continued laughing.

MAGES. was contemplating every decision in her life that had led up to her revealing that story which, now it had been told, would haunt her for the rest of her life.

_**Five minutes later, down the road...**_

The two women at the desk stared in bewilderment at the man standing in front of them. Not only was it rather rare to see a man, but it was more rare to see a _tall_ man. Every other male that was widely publicised was a criminal, except this guy. The first of the two, realising that Jack was standing in front of the reception and awkwardly shifting, cleared her throat. "Umm...welcome to the Downtown Planeptune public baths, Mr...?" Jack had his response ready.

"London. My surname's London. You can call me Mr. London." He hardly dropped eye contact as he said it. He _really_ wanted them to get it into their heads. The woman stared for a second, then straightened up.

"Of course, Mr. Honeybun," she replied calmly, reinforcing Jack's absolute hatred towards the joke. "If you'd like to follow my co-worker, she'll take you to the male baths. And the changing rooms." She looked him dead in the eyes. "There are no cameras there." Cautiously, Jack nodded.

"Uh-huh. Would I be able to wash my clothes whilst I'm here? Like a...laundrette, or summat?" The woman was about to shake her head, when the other girl quickly spoke up.

"No, but I could take your clothes to the drycleaner's over the road for you," she chirped. "It's a free service, and nobody uses it much anyway, so I wouldn't mind taking them to the dry cleaner's and picking them up later." Jack tilted his head.

"I didn't see a dry cleanin' place whilst I was comin' over here," he replied. "You sure?"

The woman paused, and looked to her friend. "Uhh...certain of it."

Jack stood and thought for a moment, eyeing the two up. "Well, I'm fairly certain there's no dry cleaner's around here. Walked for ten minutes to find this place, and not once did I see a dry cleaner. So I'm thinkin' you two are tryin' to pull summat off." He looked them both dead in the eyes, frowning. "I'll clean them later." The two ladies swallowed, and nodded quickly. "Which way do I go to get changed?"

Without hesitation, the first woman he had encountered quickly pointed to a side door, and Jack gave a small yet noticeably sarcastic nod of appreciation as he crouched through.

_**Fifteen minutes later...**_

"Fuck me, Compa was right, I did smell fuckin' 'orrible," Jack whistled, using the supplied brush to scrub off a large patch of dried blood from the right of his abdomen. He was pretty sure that had been under there for a few days, at least: Probably from when that robot slammed into him in Lowee's forest, though he wasn't too sure how blunt force caused the bleeding. Regardless, in spite of the baths being completely empty, he could already sense that someone was probably watching him cleaning himself off. Probably a camera or window or something. He was certain that the bath itself was empty; It was a large, oriental sauna-styled affair. Open air, as well, but with no buildings that could see inside. Truly well built, he had to admit.

It was also, unfortunately, very warm.

As he was typically an indoors person, and most of his training was based in Nevada but often required the recruits to visit places like Alaska and Siberia, he was _not_ used to the warmth of a sauna. It wasn't on the level where he'd probably faint or anything: It was just incredibly uncomfortable to him, made apparent by his occasionally groaning and wiping of his brow. His hair was fine. He wasn't touching it because he was worried he might lose his 'Famed Bank Robber' hairstyle. So, instead, he was focusing on what he could see on his mostly naked body, every so often flicking his eyes up to the pile of gear that he had lying over by the side of the bath, before continuing to scrape off the dried Dogoo substance and smoke residue that had made itself present on his arms, legs, and face. For any Gamindustri resident, the brush was to get hard-to-reach places like the back and was approximately the length of a tennis racket. For Jack and his considerable size, it was about the length of a mid-sized hairbrush, and made itself useful in destroying dry and hard to remove substances.

As he stood at the edge of the (surprisingly stomach-deep) bath and ran a sponge over his shoulder to remove any remaining black substance, to his shock the door opened at the opposite end of the bath area, and in stepped a red-haired woman wearing nothing but a towel. He stared at her with worry etched onto his face, yet the woman displayed no response to him outside of maintaining almost constant eye contact with her emerald green eyes and a flat expression. She entered the area, and gently stepped down the inclined ramp into the bath. For a moment, the bottom of the towel she was wearing began to lift, until she stepped further in, when it once more dropped down her slender legs. She adjusted the top of the towel, and without even hesitating, moved over to Jack, set her arms over the edge of the bath, and floated only a meter or so away from Jack, staring almost blankly ahead.

Jack stared at her in confusion, still holding the sponge on his shoulder. There was silence, the only sound being the occasional dripping from a nearby showerhead onto the stone floor. He coughed. "Uh...do...you want me to leave...?" he finally asked. The woman stayed staring ahead.

"I am indifferent to whether you choose to remain present or not," she replied in a relatively monotone voice. "I am simply here on my vacation." Jack blinked.

"Oh."

Silence reigned again, and Jack finally decided to start scrubbing away at the smoke covering his body, being careful not to make an annoying noise. The residue went into the water, and gently drifted away, diffusing due to the powerful water-cleaning substance...whatever it was. Jack didn't want to start conversation for fear of being awkward. The woman didn't say anything, instead opting to close her eyes and sigh deeply. "This is the first time I have visited Planeptune in several months." Jack cast a surprised glance at her. "I feel it is always best to visit these locations late at night, for their emptiness is much more soothing than a bustling public place." Jack blinked.

"Um..." What was he meant to say? "...right." The woman gave him a sideways glance, not letting her flat expression leave her face.

"For someone of your size and notable scarring ," she began calmly, "It can be noted that you seem either terribly shy, or simply socially impaired." Jack, not knowing what else to do, nodded, still looking worried. The woman let out a sniff, sighing, and began casting her emerald gaze around the outdoor area. Finally, her eyes came to rest on the pile of Jack's equipment behind them. "Those are your weapons, correct?" she asked. Jack nodded after a moment. "Do you often engage in combat?" He shrugged, tilting his head side to side.

"Kind of. Guild work, mostly."

The woman raised her head briefly in acknowledgement. "Then that surely explains your significant level," she replied matter-of-factly. "Over one hundred and seventy. You must be significantly skilled." Jack shrugged.

"Apparently."

"Apparently...?" she repeated, waiting for him to continue. Jack looked blankly at her.

"Apparently I'm good. But...I'm really...an OK fighter...I think." The woman remained silent.

"Do you not feel confident in your abilities?" The question came suddenly to Jack. Normally, he'd shrug it off. But he wasn't wearing any clothes, and neither was she. That made the conversation a _hundred_ times more awkward, especially when he realised she had rather buoyant assets. The towel seemed to be struggling to hold them in place.

"Uh..." He looked around the room, then back at the red-head, who was looking bored whilst waiting for an answer. "...semi-confident." She nodded.

"Expand."

"Well...uh...I can shoot guns. I have about five that I carry. And...I hit things. That's...about it, really. I'm pretty useless in a fight."

"Then why are you here scrubbing off Dogoo remains from places that can only be reached if you were to be in extreme close quarters?"

"I killed some Dogoos."

"Then you are not useless in a fight. A fight is about survival. The end will normally justify the means with which you go about it. Thus, your claims that you are useless can be safely disregarded." Jack thought about this for a moment, then looked at the woman again.

"Well...thanks, Mrs...?"

"You do not need to bother with the formal 'Miss'," she replied, dismissing him with a hand. "I am Cave, a Leanbox native." She turned her whole head, and looked Jack up and down. "And you most certainly are _not_ local to Gamindustri." Jack groaned.

"What tells you that?" he asked.

"Your size, gender, weaponry, and clothing. In Gamindustri, such things differ massively to yours." Cave gestured to the pile of clothing and guns nearby. "I can only assume that large black weapon fires powder-slugs."

"It's a shotgun," Jack corrected, raising a hand, "Though I don't really want to go into detail about it...but I suppose it shoots from powder, and I can make it shoot slugs. Why?"

"Then it is several decades behind in terms of weapons technology. Jack gave an indifferent shrug.

"It uses a loading method that's about a hundred or so years old, anyway." He pointed to the double-barrel. "That one's definitely old, and really simple." He then pointed to the Skorpion holster, the small gun still inside. "And that one is about fifty years old, maybe a bit less. It doesn't make them any worse at fightin' with. Like you said, the ends justify the means." Cave smiled at him.

"I suppose." She then returned to looking quietly ahead, and her face returned to its neutral expression. The silence returned, but as Jack continued cleaning himself, he felt like she was looking towards him again.

Specifically, at his back.

"It's the scar, ain't it?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"It's a reason I don't like these places. I don't like people seein' how much I've been beaten up over the years. That scar down my back is from a spine surgery, where they drilled titanium into the bones for support."

"So you are, in theory, a cyborg?" Jack paused for a second, and looked back at her over his shoulder.

"A cyborg?"

"Yes. Partially metallic. A cyborg."

"...huh. I guess I never thought of it like that."

"Is it an insult if I bring it up? If it is, I apologize."

"Uh, no. It isn't an insult, you're alright. Far as I'm concerned, I'm just an annoyance to airport security."

"And you suggest you are not in spite of the armaments that I can only assume you consistently carry?" Jack chuckled.

"Well, I got the two big guns taken by the ship captain on the ship here from Lowee."

"Hmm." Cave smiled, then once again returned to looking straight ahead and saying nothing. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and tilted her head back, breathing out slowly. It was then that Jack looked down and noticed that he was clean. He breathed in for a moment. Yup. He no longer smelled like solvents. Maybe now people would stop getting dizzy when they stood near him.

He was pretty sure Oracle Hakozaki hadn't forgiven him for the time she'd fainted after standing next to him. Then again, she fainted a lot when she stood near him. Maybe cleaning himself up would stop that from happening, and he could have a good conversation with Chika without him having to catch her. She was a nice lady.

Cave seemed to be relatively the same, if not just a lot less smiley and talkative. She was also considerably more cut up in places; Jack could just make out a few small scars and grazes lining her fairly muscular arms. Perhaps she lived in a slightly rough area, or professionally fought monsters?

Eh.

Whatever.

After a brief glance at the clock on the wall said 'It's Fucking Late', Jack decided it would be best if he headed back to Compa's. Since he also decided that Cave was entirely keen on his presence, he made sure his towel was held up, and made his way out of the bath without a word. Cave said nothing, instead opting to observe his exit silently with her seemingly natural coldness.

After the tall man had gotten changed behind a screen and left the area, she sighed slightly. It was odd. That conversation had been the most refreshing and relatable she had been involved in for a rather long time. Perhaps it was simply that he was also a warrior, or perhaps it was how he gradually came out of his shell during the discussion, revealing gradually that he was more than likely insane.

Though, she did find his worried expression at the beginning rather endearing. Cute, almost.

She liked cute things.

But nobody could know that. She was just too cool to let people know that _Cave_ liked cutesy things.


	12. A Rather Uncharacteristic Reflection

In spite of the hour that Jack had been told o arrive at the basilicom at, Lady Nepgear was already awake and Miss Histoire was filing through paperwork when he stepped / crouched through the door. The room wasn't untidy, and the sun was just rising above the horizon to cast an orange glow into the living space of the basilicom as Jack made his presence known with a cough. The tiny fairy and mid-sized girl snapped their gazes towards him, with the former offering a smile as the latter began looking slightly concerned. "Mr. Loafbun, good morning!" greeted Histoire, floating her way over from the table in the middle of the room where Lady Nepgear was eating her breakfast. Jack raised his left hand slightly from the foregrip of his double-barrel, offering a short smile.

"Mornin', Miss Histoire," he replied casually, before glancing around. "I thought that Lady Neptune'd be awake by now." Histoire was quick to shake her head, frowning.

"Not a chance. Regrettably, Lady Neptune often sleeps in until roughly ten o'clock." Jack raised a brow.

"Lucky. I'm still used to wakin' up at four in the mornin' with only a little bit of sleep and a punch in the face. And I'll be honest with you: When I was at Miss Compa's last night, I was amazed she didn't bash me in the 'ead to get me up." Histoire laughed.

"I suppose you would not have the contact information for your instruction camp?" she asked. Now Jack shook his head.

"Legally, the project I was part of never existed, and neither did I. I did, for a while, but then they removed my records from existence so I could become some God-tier fighter." At the last words, Histoire perked up slightly as she guided Jack onto the balcony once more.

"Ah! Speaking of fighting, Lady Neptune and I discussed the 'side job' that you inquired about." Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"N'aww, fuck, I'm not gonna bloody like this, am I?" he muttered, reaching his left hand back to scratch the rear of his head. Histoire paused, and shook her head. Jack sighed. "Lemme take a guess: I'm meant to fight someone for her." The small fairy in front of him laughed awkwardly, and tilted her head.

"Not..._exactly_."

_**At two o'clock...**_

"You're 'avin' a fuckin' laugh with this, right?"

Standing a good distance away from Jack, glowing purple ninja sword at the ready, was Lady Purple Heart. She had a look on her face that mixed determination and playfulness, but considering how Jack knew from gaming that if something was glowing, it'd hurt like fuck, he wasn't really feeling too comfortable. The area itself was an open field a few miles from the outside of Planeptune's capital, a couple of trees scattered around the place and the sun high in the sky.

Picturesque, Jack believed the word was. But he wasn't exactly saying he was 'one with the scenery': The considerably cutely coloured girls nearby, being Compa, IF, Lady Nepgear and Lady Purple Heart, fit with their surroundings nicely, as you'd expect cutesy girls to be in cutesy places. Of course, being from Earth, Jack hadn't exactly been dressed for 'cutesy': He looked more like someone from an apocalypse film than someone who was meant to be standing in a bright, flower-specked field of green. Lady Purple Heart (more accurately, Lady Neptune) had, however, insisted that he was to help with combat training.

His main plan was to avoid every single swing as best as he could, and if it got to the point where he could be killed, he would go 100% berserker and force his way out by any means. He'd not come this far just to be killed by a teenager that turns into a fully-grown, attractive woman with a ninja sword and catsuit.

Seemingly oblivious to his blatant concern, the goddess tilted her head slightly. "Why're you so worried?" she asked, genuinely. "It's just a bit of sword practice." Jack threw his arms wide, gesturing to his weapons that were lying in the shade of the tree, not including his combat knife and kukri-machete. Those were being carried by him.

"Well, fuckin' pardon me!" he cried. "Didn't know I was immune to bein' fuckin' sliced up! This is gonna fuckin' kill me!" Lady Purple Heart raised a brow, looking flatly at him.

"You're level one hundred and seventy," she replied, her tone of voice suggesting he was overreacting. "You can probably take a hundred of my sword swings and not feel a thing." Jack facepalmed.

"We don't fuckin' know that, do we?" he shot back.

"We won't, unless we try."

"Then we try it first, on my terms, we clear?" Jack quickly flicked his gaze over to the tree nearby, where IF, Compa, and Nepgear were sat. The latter two were sat, worriedly watching the argument between goddess and Briton. IF, however, was more interested in examining Jack's Desert Eagle, looking over it in what appeared to be amazement at its size. She barely seemed to be able to put her hand around the grip, let alone pull the trigger. Jack turned, and called over.

"MISS IF!" he yelled, prompting her to jump slightly and scramble her hands, attempting to keep a hold on the gun. Once she'd collected herself, she looked noticeably flustered.

"WHAT?!" she shouted.

"DO US A FAVOUR, AND SHOOT ME IN THE FOOT!" The shorter woman raised her brows in surprise.

"WH-WHAT?!" she stuttered. Compa and Nepgear looked just as confused.

"YOU HEARD ME!" Jack repeated, undeterred. "PUT A ROUND IN MY FOOT!" IF blinked, and looked nervous for a second. Finally, she exhaled, and reached into her large blue coat.

"Uh...O-OK, sure..." she muttered quietly, and withdrawing, to Jack's surprise, what looked to be a Beretta 92. He put on a brief look that usually represented 'Hmm', and placed his hands on his waist, moving his green shirt out of the way and resting his palms on the leather bandoliers beneath. IF stood up, and prepared the pistol. Purple Heart now looked worried.

"Uh...are you sure this is the best idea?" she asked. Jack looked at her, with a near-victorious smirk on his face.

"Now you know how it feels to not fuckin' understand summat." He turned back to IF. "C'MON! I'VE GOT ALL DAY BUT LIMITED PATIENCE!" She frowned. She was actually sort of going to enjoy shooting him, even if only in the foot.

"I'M GETTING IT READY, WAIT A SEC!" she yelled back. Everyone could detect a notable hint of frustration in her voice. She hesitated, and began pulling at the slide.

"IS IT FUCKIN' JAMMED OR SUMMAT?" Jack called over.

"YEAH, IT'S NOT MOVING."

"THEN USE ONE OF MINE." IF looked up from her pistol, slipping it away, and then glanced over her shoulder at the stack of guns. She returned her gaze to the large bloke in front of her.

"WHICH ONE?" she asked, moving over and eyeing up the Mossberg. Jack thought for a moment, and flexed his toes. Might lose use of them in a moment. Better use them as much as he could.

"DOESN'T MATTER, JUST USE ANY," he replied. Compa and Nepgear shared worried looks as IF (almost too eagerly) picked up the Desert Eagle.

"Um, Iffy?" Compa spoke up.

"Yes?" replied the brunette calmly. Compa swallowed.

"That...uh, that's the gun that Mr. Lunny said hurt his wrists when he fired it."

"And?" IF was now wearing a slightly alarming smile as she pulled the slide back and checked the chamber, the brass casing of a .44 Magnum round greeting her eager eyes.

"I don't think you should use it." Compa continued, becoming increasingly alarmed. Lady Purple Heart, meanwhile, was looking up at Jack in genuine concern. The Englishman was standing with his arms folded and an impatient look on his face.

"This isn't going to end well," she said flatly. Jack didn't turn his eyes from looking at IF.

"Neither was your fuckin' plan," he retorted sharply. "Either a hole in my foot, or a massive open wound across my fuckin' chest. Which do you think I'm gonna bloody go for?" The goddess went silent, turning her eyes to look back at IF, who had frozen to stare at the majesty of the goliath's pistol in her hands. Then, she looked at Jack again.

"Wouldn't your armor protect against it?" she asked.

"I don't know if sword fuel can melt kevlar beams. That's the problem. So I'm gonna test it with bullets. Speakin' of which." He turned, frowning, and yelled over to IF. "FUCK'S SAKE! IT'S NOT HARD! POINT IT AT MY SODDIN' FOOT AND SHOOT THE FU-!" He was cut off by a loud bang, and he gritted his teeth in registration of...

...nothing?

He looked down. His foot was fine. Not a hole or scratch on it. Groaning, he prepared to yell loudly at IF, before realising that she was nowhere to be seen: Where the short brunette once stood was now a noticeably surprised Compa, who was frantically looking around for where her friend had gone. Jack looked at Lady Purple Heart, who couldn't help but conceal a smile at his "Done With This Shit" expression. "Load of fuckin' bollocks, this is. Y'know what, just fuckin' stab me in the foot. I honestly don't even bloody care anymore."

Lady Purple Heart, in spite of being level-headed and mature when in HDD, didn't need to be asked twice.

_**A few hours later, at the basilicom...**_

Jack remained silent as he sat on the living area's couch, elbows on his knees and hands clasped in front of his mouth, a steeled expression on his face. His gaze was fixed on the guns that he had carefully organized onto the table, starting with the lengthy shotguns furthest from him, and finishing with his bayonet and Desert Eagle closest to him. Stacked next to the table were the segments of his body armour, as well as his bandoliers, and his satchel of equipment was spilled out across the empty space that remained on the wooden coffee table. Histoire, sipping a cup of tea, hovered next to him at head height, gazing over them as well. However, she had a more noticeably worried expression. After a few minutes of this, she cleared her throat. "This..." she began, placing her cup onto the saucer, "...is a _considerable_ amount of equipment." She turned to Jack, who remained staring ahead. "Were you not suspicious when your...employers...issued you with this equipment?"

"Not at all," replied the Englishman, still with his eyes locked on the intricate engravings of the steel on the double-barrelled shotgun furthest from him. "I was the one who picked out most of it." Histoire, not knowing what to say, sipped her tea again, and looked at the two large shotguns at the top of the array of weapons.

"Those two at the top are longer than I am tall." Jack nodded, still staring ahead.

"And how tall are you?" he asked. The fairy thought for a moment, briefly glancing out the windows of the room to look over Planeptune's sunset skyline.

"Just over a meter." She sighed. "I don't exactly understand the necessity of carrying all of it simultaneously. The sheer size of most of them is likely to cause you back problems later on."

Jack flicked his eyes over to her. "Can't." Now Histoire tilted her head.

"It will."

"It _can't_." Jack punctuated by standing, turning away from her, and lifting the back of his shirt. Revealed to her was the significant scar down the centre of his back, to which he was rewarded by a small gasp from the fairy. "I've got titanium drilled into my spine. If my arms were strong enough, I could lift a fuckin' car. Also means I piss off security scanners, metal detectors, and anyone that's remotely magnetic. I'm basically a soddin' terminator." It was at this point, as he dropped his shirt down, that Nepgear wandered into the living area, holding a small tray with a series of cups of brown liquid carried on it. She, herself, was wearing her usual sailor-like dress, plus her long pink and white stockings with her rather large boots, as well as her usual pleasant expression. As she entered, she was about to place the tray down on the table, when she opened her eyes and noticed the large amount of guns on the table. After a moment, she decided to set the drinks down on the couch opposite Jack and Histoire.

"Hello," she greeted calmly, receiving a warm 'Good Evening' from Histoire, and a grunt of acknowledgement from Jack. She looked at the table again, and the smile dropped from her face. "That's...a lot of weapons..." Briefly, she pointed her finger out, and gently bobbed over each one as she counted them up. Finally, she gasped. "Eight of them..." murmured the candidate in amazement. She looked up at Jack. "Do you..._carry_ all of these?"

"It's kinda implied, innit?" Jack nodded.

"All at _once_?" she asked. Jack was certain he could notice a sparkle in her eyes, which was prompting him to sit up, and recline away from the girl in front of him.

"Uh-huh...why?"

"Are they all as powerful as the one IF used?"

"No."

"But that was a pistol..." she gasped quietly, eyeing up the Desert Eagle. "It must be strong to be able to throw IF into some bushes a hundred meters away, _and _knock her out."

"...she...didn't brace against recoil, or summat?"

"So...the big guns...are they even _stronger_ than the big pistol?"

"Debatable. Depends where the target is in comparison to me when I fire. The black one is more practical, and fires a single shotgun shell," Jack pointed to the Mossberg, before moving his finger up to gesture to the double-barrel. "That one's if I want to fuckin' _rape_ summat with pellets, and can fire two barrels simultaneously." Nepgear stared blankly at him. "It sprays loads of tiny bits of metal in a massive cone and fucks everythin' it hits. Normally."

"How do the pellets even damage the target?" asked Histoire. "Surely, if many come out of the barrel at once, they must be miniscule. I would call these little more than a deterrent against attackers." Jack, now sat down, turned his whole body to face the fairy.

"Miss Histoire, have you ever _seen_ what a double-barrelled shotgun can do to a bloke if you give 'em both barrels? Turns the cunt's head into red fuckin'_ paint_." Histoire visibly paled at the thought for a few seconds. "Not that I've ever done it to anyone. Just watched the videos of it happenin'." This only slightly calmed down the fairy. Nepgear had already started shifting to the edge of the sofa, so that in the event of Jack doing anything she could quickly get up and run away.

Nevertheless, Histoire forced a smile, and shifted slightly on her book. "That's..._interesting_, Mr. Lovebun." Jack scratched his chin.

"So anyway, Miss Histoire, my previous internet adventures aside," he began, "Why did you need me to lay these all out in the very specific order you stated?" Histoire sat up, and a genuine smile came to her face, as well as most of its colour. She would struggle with the mental image of the 'Red Paint' euphemism for the rest of eternity.

"Well," she coughed, straightening herself, "I was mostly curious as to the extent of your armory so as to check you were not causing yourself harm; As Planeptune's Oracle, it is my duty to ensure that everyone under my charge is in good health."

"And as I said, my back's not havin' any trouble with it," Jack cut in. "Only problem I have is that carryin' this many guns is mostly just slightly awkward in enclosed spaces. Like, seriously, have you tried walkin' through a Gamindustri-sized doorway whilst my size, _and_ with two massive shotguns strapped to your back?" He shifted slightly to suggest he was stuck in a doorway. "It's not fun, I'll tell you now." Histoire sipped her tea, and raised a brow.

"Then why not simply use a disk?" she asked. Jack looked at her.

"What's a 'disk'?" he asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. "Is this some kind of euphemism for a surgery?"

Histoire simply shook her head with a smile, and floated over to a nearby table covered in an assortment of objects, including CDs. "Not at all!" she beamed, putting down her cup of tea and lifting up one of the CDs. "A disk is simply a personal storage device that allows you to contain physical objects in a digital realm. For instance, this disk is used by Nepgear to store-"

"Gears!" chimed the Candidate, swinging her legs with a pleasant expression.

"-so if I simply have this on my person, I can take out any object stored inside." Histoire finished. She placed the disk behind her so it would lean against her back, and then reached her hands out in front of her. Before Jack could ask what she was asking for, there was a pink glow in front of the fairy, and a fairly small cog appeared from thin air, landing in her waiting hands. Jack was amazed.

"What's the biggest objects those can store?" he immediately asked.

"Miss Compa has her syringe stored in hers, so I don't see why you couldn't use one for your weapons."

"Then I'm buyin' one tomorrow," Jack said finally, before standing up. "You done lookin' at them, or do you want me to leave them out for you to poke at?" Histoire gave a gentle nod.

"I believe Nepgear would appreciate the opportunity to look at their functions." The lavender-haired girl sat across from them perked up, and bobbed her head in agreement with a pleasant expression.

"Yes, I would!" she squeaked excitedly. "Thank you so much!" Jack flashed her a grin and a nod, before standing up.

"No worries." He stood up, and put his hands behind his back as he started walking towards the balcony. He paused, and turned to Nepgear and Histoire, who were now beside each other and beginning to pick up weapons from the table to investigate them. "Hey. Try not to blow your heads off." There was no response from the two, who began excitedly poking around at the firearms. Shrugging, Jack stepped out onto the balcony, illuminated by an orange glow.

Out of all the places in any nation's basilicom, Jack found that he always liked the balconies, especially at sunset. It seemed as though the balconies had been built to face exactly where thesun would set on the horizon, which meant whoever was on it would get an absolutely gorgeous view. In Planeptune's case, that meant he could see the sun reflecting off buildings in the distant cityscape, and he could still feel the warm glow of the sun against his face. He was almost tempted to smile, but didn't, because that'd be fucking weird. As he stood contemplating how he probably should invest in a GoPro or something similar, Jack heard some footsteps coming up behind him. He turned, and wandering onto the balcony was Lady Neptune. She looked rather like a child that had literally just hit puberty, which was a significant change in both personality and cup size from her HDD. "Evenin'," Jack nodded. Neptune smiled.

"Hi, hi," she greeted, before moving straight up to the side of the balcony and sitting on the small wall overlooking a significantly large drop down into Planeptune's capital city. Jack didn't really pay it much heed: She probably did it all the time. "So! How's the whole 'miserable guy' thing going?" she asked cheerfully, swinging her legs.

Jack scratched his stubble with a grimace, left arm folded to cup his right elbow. It felt weird to have no armour on his legs and arms. "Doin' alright, I s'pose," he replied. "You heard anythin' from IF? Is she alright?"

"I got a text from Compa earlier," whistled the goddess, "She says Iffy's gonna be A-OK. Why the interest? Are you trynna hook up with her? You'd make a cute couple."

"Shut the fuck up," Jack snapped defensively, "I'm just concerned about her because of the fact she flew _one hundred fuckin' metres_, hit a **TREE HEAD-FIRST**, and then got knocked out by the gun landin' on her head. That shit would've killed you back where I'm from, so I have reason for concern over her." There was a pause. Neptune's facial expression didn't change from the shit-eating smirk she was wearing when she first asked the question. "Also because I could probably call her my friend." Neptune's smile, somehow, got even bigger.

"Awww!" The girl gave Jack a friendly bump on the shoulder, and there was an audible _tap_ as it impacted his notably muscular bicep. "I thought you were the kinda guy who's all 'I work alone'." She paused, putting a finger to her chin and looking up in thought. "But then again there's that James guy and you're good friends with him." Suddenly, her smile returned. "Anyway, good to see you've made some new friends, because I was kinda hoping that we CPUs wouldn't be permanently looking at you."

"Well, cheers, I guess," Jack muttered, before putting his hands in his trouser pockets. "Shame I can't find any of the ones I already had, outside of James."

"You'll find them eventually," Neptune beamed, before hopping down from the wall and beginning to skip inside. As she left, Jack watched the small girl bounding away without a care in the world.

_'And that's who runs this place? Fucking hell, I thought Chika was a weird choice for Oracle.'_

Jack smiled to himself. Sure, he was gonna be on his own most of the time. And most of the people from his home that he met would be hostile, ready to kill him on a moment's notice.

There was no way to hide himself, really: One successful speech and the word of the Dogoo Immolation Incident spread together to create a strong presence to his name. Recklessly vocal motivator, and even more reckless when fighting.

The Englishman removed his hands from his pockets as the sun dipped below the horizon in the distance, turning himself around to head inside and see how everyone was doing. The sound of a shotgun firing off earlier had already given him some worries about the girls' safety.

Strange.

He'd never felt so intent on protecting people before. Normally, he despised anything to do with looking after someone or something.

So now that he was helping to safeguard four _kingdoms_, why wasn't he already on a shooting spree?

Maybe it was the sense of purpose. Maybe it was because he needed to put training to use, and boots to ground. Perhaps it was his strange sense of duty to protect the innocent from the thugs that he knew from Earth.

Or maybe it was how he felt like he fit in. He never did fit in on Earth: People always said it was like he wasn't meant to be there.

Yes.

That was it.

It was because it felt like a place he could call home, and there were people he could call friends.


	13. Out To Sea

Jack had always felt a lot more welcome at Planeptune's basilicom than he did at any of the others, with Leanbox's in second, Lastation's in third (he hadn't really interacted with anyone there during his visit), and Lowee's in last for hospitality (bastards took his guns away and told him _he_ was rude). Though, he had to admit that whilst the staff were rather introverted in their duties, Lastation had one thing to brighten up his day a significant amount.

That thing was Uni: The adorable little bundle of fun that just happened to have a sister that was a MASSIVE bitch. He had been looking forward to getting back to Lastation, since it was one of the few places where he had someone that eagerly awaited his return in a non-creepy way (Chika didn't count; he was fairly certain she only looked forward to him coming back so she had someone to stare at in a creepy, assessing way).

As Jack stepped into the basilicom front door, he was surprised to see a young man standing at the reception area with a clipboard, assessing the room. He had relatively short grey hair, a pair of cold blue eyes, and what looked to be a black business suit with a pair of boots that seemed remarkably similar to Jack's Magnums. However, Jack noticed the presence of what looked to be a skirt. Perhaps it was a kilt, meaning Jack would not be the only Scotsman and could loudly be Mel Gibson without reprimand. The man looked as though he was performing an important inspection of some kind, so Jack wasn't certain he could interfere. However, there was also the problem that he couldn't get into the basilicom without climbing (making him look like some giant with a shotgun) or getting someone to send down the elevator (nobody was behind the desk). So, reluctantly, Jack approached one of the few Gamindustrian males he had met since coming to the new world. "Afternoon, mate," he piped up. The man offered little response, continuing to look at the clipboard, before tapping his pen onto the paper.

"Can I help you?" came his voice. Slightly strange tone of voice, but whatever.

"Yeah, I'm Mr. Jack London? I'm the bloke that's meant to be visitin' Lady Noire because of some 'changeover' bullshit," Jack explained. "Thought you might be able to call down the lift, if that's alright with you, mate." The man stared up flatly at him with an unamused expression.

"First," the man replied, "I'd ask that you stop calling me 'mate'; In spite of my masculine appearance, I am a woman."

"Oh. Shit. Sorry."

"Second, I already know who you are. Lady Noire expects me, as Oracle, to keep on top of people in the basilicom and visitors to Lastation."

"You're the Oracle?" Jack asked, surprised. "Then pardon my, quite frankly, fuckin' terrible manners. Don't believe we've met."

"We haven't." The woman (whoops) extended a hand. "My name is Kei Jinguji. I oversee business and international affairs for Lastation's basilicom." She paused, eyeing him up as he shook her hand, surprisingly showing no reaction to it. "And you must be the pyromaniac with a gun that the media of Lastation has been actively discussing for the past few weeks. You're a big guy." Jack groaned.

"Yes, that's me, Gamindustri's reckoning, whatever. Admit it, the whole 'flame shootin'' thing is fuckin' awesome."

"I suppose one could say that. Or, if one were myself, you could also say that it was a _considerable_ amount of paperwork to send in the clean-up team." Jack whistled, scratching the back of his head as Kei folded her arms, unamused.

"Well, that aside, I'm still meant to be visitin' Lady Noire. You know how I get up there?" Without hesitation, the short woman gestured to a nearby staircase.

"Use those. They're a valuable asset engineered by Lastation's top scientists to allow people to ascend and descend between floors. It's still in beta testing, so be careful on them. We call them 'stairs'." As Jack huffed and turned to walk towards them, he shot Kei a glare.

"I already fuckin' _despise_ you," he stated matter-of-factly, jabbing a finger at her. She offered a smirk of victory and watched him going upstairs.

"As with many of my business transactions, the feelings are mutual," she replied calmly, waving him off. As she watched Jack going up the stairs and eventually disappearing out of view, Kei shrugged. "Well, at least we know that on a mental level, he's little more than a giant with a shotgun."

"_I 'eard that, you scrawny little shit!_" Jack's voice called down. Kei froze for a second, before shaking her head and continuing to list the costing of refurbishing the basilicom entrance.

_**Upstairs...**_

God, maybe it was just him, but Jack _despised_ politicians and people like that. Life's not some fucking corporate venture: That Kei guy...girl...whatever the fuck 'it' was needed to let down what little hair 'it' had and remove the copious amounts of cylindrical objects that 'it' had shoved up 'its' arse. He shook his head, stepping around the corner into the corridor that led towards Lady Noire's study. "Might even say that 'Kei' prick is even more of a miserable cunt than Noire..." Just then, a welcomingly familiar voice came from the elevator to Noire's study as it arrived.

"I swear I heard a voice..." Uni murmured, peering from the elevator with slightly narrowed eyes. It took a moment as she gazed about the corridor until she finally locked eyes with Jack, and a significantly large smile came to her face as well as his. "Mr. Lovebun!" she squealed cheerfully, before quickly exiting the doorway and running over to him, laughing all the while. Immediately upon coming into range, she lunged at him and grabbed him in a crushing hug, which Jack carefully returned.

"Hey, Uni!" he laughed, patting her on the back a few times. "How've you been?"

"Bored," she replied, pulling out of the hug and folding her arms. "You really didn't need to leave me here on my own, did you?" Jack rubbed the back of his head. Now both of his hands were free due to his larger weapons being stored in his disk, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with his hands.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he winced. "But it was part of the deal I made with your sister, Green Heart, Purple Heart, and White Heart."

"Where were you last time?" Uni asked, before turning so that they could walk towards the elevator leading to Noire's study.

"Planeptune's basilicom," Jack replied, "Whilst I was there, I had to train in combat with Lady Purple Heart. Didn't hurt nearly as much as I was expectin', for some reason..."

"Well, you _are_ level one hundred and seventy! It's not gonna hurt you much!"

"Eh. Where I'm from, my neck'd be split with the first attack and I'd be bleedin' considerably. Probably also cryin' as well. Because, y'know, I'd be fuckin' dyin', but whatever." Just then, they elevator reached the large room where Jack had started his adventure. They rounded the first set of library shelving. Sat behind a small mountain of paperwork on the desk was Noire, who was carefully signing a few documents with a small pair of red glasses balanced on her nose, accompanied by her adorable look of concentration. Uni immediately spoke up.

"Noire!" she said cheerfully.

"For crying out loud, I'm busy!" groaned the goddess. "What do you want, Uni?" The CPU candidate seemed momentarily disheartened by the harsh assault.

"Uh...Mr. Lovebun's here?" she finally replied. Noire briefly looked up at the two, then down again. There was silence. Slowly, Noire placed her pen down, removed her glasses, and rubbed her forehead as she leaned forwards onto the desk.

"_And now I get to look after Dolph Lundgren's mentally deranged counterpart..._" she muttered, echoing around the room.

"Heard that reference," Jack piped up, raising a hand. "That guy's a good actor. Takin' it as a compliment; Love you too, Lady Noire." Uni raised a brow.

"...who's Dolph Lun-?"

"Irrelevant, Uni," Noire snapped, before looking dead towards Jack. "Great. I have paperwork to do, I've not slept in over a day, and now _you_ show up. Let me guess: You're going to go out to look after Uni, then by the time you get back you'll have destroyed half of Lastation's farming towns. And when you get back, I'll _rightly_ reprimand you for being an idiot, and you'll make some stupid, borderline offensive comment and it'll all be fine." There was silence.

"...basically." Jack shrugged. "Keep it up with that attitude, and I can create enough paperwork for you that you could use to wipe up _all_ the shit comin' outta your mouth." Uni concealed a grin, and Noire grit her teeth.

_Just. What I. Needed._

_**Five days later...**_

"Are you sure you have to go?" Uni asked sadly, looking up at the much taller man as he walked to the fairly large boat that was to be transporting him to Leanbox. There was nobody else on it; Automatic computer systems were set, by Noire's direct order, to go straight to Leanbox without any deviation from the course. Jack sighed as he stood next to the vehicle. To him, it was about the size of an average car ferry. More than capable of making the fifty mile journey to Leanbox at its steady speed of ten miles an hour. It was capable of going faster, however Noire insisted on making it go painfully slowly for some reason Jack couldn't discern. And so, his journey would take five whole hours.

"I know, Uni. I don't really want to leave you either," he sighed, scratching his head and crouching down to her head height. "But if I stayed any longer, I think your sister would probably kill me. Worse, she'd probably say I wouldn't be allowed to look after you any more. But...think of it this way. I'm fine just going from country to country until this 'peace talk' thing is finished."

"But what happens when the talks are done?" Uni sniffed, holding her hands in front of her and looking down slightly. Jack was certain he could see her eyes starting to water, so he decided to act quickly.

"I...dunno," he muttered, shaking his head. "But...I'm not goin' home after this is all over. Not a chance. Don't even think I can, to honest. And besides, it's not like this is the last time we're seein' each other, is it? Hey, look at me, Uni." Carefully, he reached a hand out and raised Uni's head up to look at him. Her eyes were definitely watering. "It's only a couple of weeks. Yeah?"

The CPU candidate looked at him sadly, before a smile slowly formed. Finally, she spoke. "...yeah, I guess so," she sniffed, before stepping forward and spreading her arms apart to give a hug to one of the first people Uni could really call a friend. "Have fun, big guy."

Jack grinned, and patted Uni on the back a few times. The hug was rather awkward, especially considering that Jack towered over the small girl. But regardless of their contrasting sizes, the two didn't mind being uncomfortable for the purpose of showing affection. "There, that's the Uni I know," he said quietly. Over Uni's shoulder, he checked his watch. Ten to six. For a brief moment, he considered ignoring the deadline of eleven o'clock set in place by Oracle Chika, and just sitting and holding onto Uni. He bloody loved the kid.

But, he knew what Chika was like when he was late: She would sit in a position mimicking a Bond girl, sip some champagne, then make subtle innuendos that Jack wouldn't pick up on. Not that he particularly minded, but it normally led to awkward conversations, and he was already pretty bad at talking to people. Thus, regrettably, he unwrapped his arms from around Uni. Thankfully, she saw it as ideal timing to finish the hug as well, so she unwrapped hers, still smiling. "Have fun," she sniffed. Jack nodded, smiling, and stood to his full height, turning and beginning to step onto the boat. Once on the large deck, presumably one designed to accommodate all of Noire's staff cars, Jack stepped into the small, elevated wooden cabin at the far side of the boat, and reached for the button to set the boat on its pre-determined course.

"_Hey!_" came a sudden cry from behind him. _That wasn't Uni's voice..._

Jack turned, withdrawing his Desert Eagle from his disk and gripping it tightly. Good thing he did; Had he not, he would most likely have dropped it in surprise. Walking casually up the concrete pier, armed to the teeth, were none other than Luke and Josh. The two were markedly different than he was in terms of apparel; Jack was fairly certain that Josh had realised that he could wear what he wanted, and Luke looked like he'd just gotten out of Camp Bastion. "Fuck's sakes," Luke said as he approached, walking straight past Uni. "Been following you for fucking _weeks_! First time we've been able to catch up with you, and you've already pulled a gun on us." Jack shook his head free of amazement, and sent the gun back to the realms of his disc as his two friends calmly stepped onto the boat.

"Well, y'know, the only people I've met from our world, besides James, have tried to fuckin' kill me," he replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Anyway, where the fuck were you two lovebirds?" Josh was about to make a bitchy comment when Uni spoke up.

"...lovebirds...?" she asked. Luke and Josh looked towards the small girl, who had moved up beside Jack. She looked up at them; Specifically, Luke, who was even taller than Jack was. Her jaw fell open. "W-Wow..." she gasped, before turning to Jack. "You're from a world of giants, huh?" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, I did mention I was average height, didn't I?" he chuckled, before looking back at Luke. The black-haired lad stood at six foot four, meaning he stood out for quite a distance, and slung over his back was an L85 assault rifle with lasers mounted onto its foregrip rails. Strapped to his desert-camo trousers was a long brown holster with the wooden grip of a sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun peeping from the top. His upper apparel wasn't too complex; a simple beige jacket with a few pouches and bandoliers over it covered a set of heavier body armour than Jack had selected. Furthermore, he only had knee pads. Jack wondered where his protection was from falls and blunt weapon attacks. However, the thing that caught his eye, as usual, was the sawed-off. He smirked, and gestured to it. "Look at you, fuckin' redneck and shit. What are you, the Road Warrior? They let you bring that thing here?"

Josh snorted slightly, folding his arms. He wasn't even wearing anything tactical-ish; He'd certainly become slightly more well-built than Jack remembered him being, with his clothing not doing much to conceal what Jack assumed was Josh's new guns. Nevertheless, the posh boy had a remark, as per his usual. "And they let you come here with _just_ a pistol?" he laughed, gesturing to the holster on Jack's leg. The angle he was at meant he couldn't see that the Deagle had, in reality, disappeared to another realm, so that meant Jack just had to roll with it. "Who do you think you are? Magnum P.I?" Jack considered this. Uni had no idea what was going on, and simply opted to rock back and forth on her heels slightly, a bit upset that she wasn't involved in the conversation.

"Debatable, but sounds fun," Jack replied. "Anyway, where've you two been? James and I didn't hear a _peep_ about you. Not even from the CPUs." Luke raised a brow.

"CPUs...?" he repeated, mulling it over. Suddenly, he perked up. "Oh, I heard about them. They're, like, Gods, or something, and they each run a country." Jack nodded, and gestured to Uni.

"Aye, and this is the younger sister of the god of this country," he said smartly, before patting Uni on the head. She seemed rather proud to be there. "Uni, say hi: This is Luke, and Josh. I know them from back home." The smaller girl offered a small bow and smile.

"Hi there. My name's Uni." Luke and Josh smiled at how great Uni was. They had literally never spoken with her before, and already liked her. She paused. "Wait a minute..." she said suddenly, eyeing the two up suspiciously. "...I think I heard about you two." Jack raised a brow.

"Really?" he asked. "Why not tell me?" Uni shrugged.

"Well, I couldn't really be sure, because at the time I heard it, it was a rumour." She turned to look them up and down. "There's a story going around that a couple of 'huge people' in a giant tank have been seen driving around nearby towns and fighting monsters. You wouldn't _know_ anything about that, would you?" Luke shrugged, and looked at Josh, who tilted his head side to side in consideration.

"Probably us, then," he said flatly, before looking to Jack. "Why're they not amazed by your tank?" Jack looked at him.

"Wait, I could've had a fuckin' **TANK** to come here in?" he gasped. Luke shook his head before Jack died of hyperventilation.

"Well, not to come through in," he explained, before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the small radio that Jack had at first dismissed. The Englishman did the same, fishing through his satchel and finding the small black box near the bottom of the bag. It was dusty, and looked like a regular walkie-talkie. "What I got told to do when me and Josh came through the portal was to radio in to say we'd got there, then request a way of getting around."

"And you picked a tank?" Jack groaned, facepalming. Luke and Josh smiled, then nodded. "Nobody fuckin' told me I could do that shit...bollocks. Would've asked for a Dodge Charger. Or the Interceptor, from Mad Max. See if those twats on the other end could pull through." Luke placed his hands on his hips, letting the rifle swing freely from its sling and drop to his side.

"Really? I got told that they'd told everyone else the same thing I was told about vehicles. They said I could have whatever I wanted, when I needed it."

"Well, I got told to use my radio to request equipment. Apparently, they'd send what I asked for straight in front of me." Jack whistled, tilting his head.

"You sure?" Josh asked. "I was under the impression that I'd use the radio to request a drop, and they'd give me a box full of stuff to use." The three of them looked at each other for a moment.

"Have we been fuckin' _played_?" Jack growled. Luke and Josh groaned as well. Just then, Jack checked his watch. Four minutes to. Fuck. "Anyway, listen lads, we'll need to sort this out later. Right now, I'm on my way to Leanbox, and I need to get there on time or Oracle Chika's gonna make a bunch of innuendoes that I won't get until later. I think this ferry could probably support however you've been getting around. Go get it, and bring it here." Luke and Josh quickly nodded, before turning heel and running back down the concrete pier at what looked like twenty miles an hour. Sighing, Jack rubbed his eyes. "The _fuck_ is goin' on...?" he muttered.

"Hey." Uni piped up, causing Jack to look at her. She was stood with her arms folded, looking rather disappointedly at him.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Why're you just inviting them along and not me?" she pouted. "I've been around you for longer whilst you've been here, why can't I come to Leanbox?" Jack shrugged.

"I've got no problem with it, but your sister might do." Uni dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"Eh, I'll just text her, she'll get over it," giggled the younger girl. "Besides, I've got you looking after me, right?" Jack smiled, and Uni stepped onto the boat.

Just then, they noticed the ground beginning to rumble nearby, and the loud sound of an engine became apparent. Jack cast a glance down the pier, and so did Uni.

Smashing through thick foliage came the sudden, imposing form of a Challenger 2 mainline battle tank, with Josh holding onto the mounted Browning machine gun on the top as it tore its way down the wooden pier. It barely fit itself on the concrete platform, loosening chunks of stone and dropping them into the sea as the massive metal beast rumbled towards Jack and Uni. Jack had his arms folded and eyes wide in surprise.

A Challenger? Nice choice. Better than those dirty fucking Abrams tanks, that's for bloody certain.

Uni, meanwhile, had different thoughts.

"It...it's _gigantic..._" she gasped in absolute awe, staring up at the armoured vehicle as it rolled onto the ferry (which, for a second, seemed as though it was going to sink under the weight), slowing down, and coming to a gentle stop at the very edge of it. The front slope of the armour gently booped Uni's nose as it halted, nearly knocking her into the water had Jack not have quickly reached out to grab her. Smiling, he lifted her up onto the metal plates near the driver's...cabin...hole...thing, and she sat there, jaw agape in absolute amazement as she looked over the vehicle. Josh looked down from the gunner's seat, and smiled.

"Lovely, isn't it?" he called down as the engine stopped, snapping Uni from her reverie. "It's a Challenger 2, main tank for the British army! Weighs a lot! Only thing that can hurt this is _another_ Challenger 2, and I doubt we'll be running into one of those any time soon! Make yourself comfortable, kiddo, because I think we just slowed this boat down by half!" Jack groaned loudly as he went over to the control panel in the ferry's cabin, and hit the button to start it off. Slowly, but surely, the boat's engine coughed into life, and after a few seconds, began to churn up water behind it as it set off at a steady 5 miles an hour.

Stepping down from the cockpit as the sun began to set over Leanbox on the horizon ahead, Jack clambered up and sat on top of the tank's gun, setting down beside Uni and with Josh sitting on the rim of the hole down to his gunner's seat. Luke had gotten out of the driver's compartment (yeah, that word works) and sat crosslegged on the sloped front of the tank. There was silence, outside of the boat and water. After a few minutes, Jack sighed, and stretched his back. "So...what's her name?" he enquired suddenly, causing the other three to look at him.

"What's whose name?" Josh asked.

"The tank," Jack replied, looking to Josh. "What's her name?" The blonde in front of him raised a brow, and began thinking.

"Umm..."

"Well, we're gonna be usin' this tank a lot, right?" Jack explained. "I mean, it's a fuckin' _tank_. So, we can't just leave it nameless, can we?" Luke shrugged slightly.

"Suppose so," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "What about Fury?"

"Like the film?" Jack laughed. "That was an American film. A good one, but American. Can't use it."

"I thought it was to do with the author not wanting to get in trouble for copyright reasons," Uni whistled. Jack sighed.

"...look, if someone would just explain this whole 'author' and 'story' thing to me, I'd be _really_ fuckin' appreciative." Just then, Josh smiled.

"I got one," he said calmly. "How about...**Britain**?" Jack grinned.

"I was thinkin' the Quattro, but I think that's better."

"Why the 'Quattro'?" Luke laughed. "This is one up from an Audi, mate."

"But then if either of you two somehow manage to pick up girls, you can look at them all dramatic and say '_Get in the Quattro!_', like in Ashes to Ashes."

Josh just sighed at Jack's needlessly large knowledge base of classic British TV.

"So..." Luke coughed, rubbing the side of his face with his fingers to clear away some oil, "Why're we coming with you?"

"Well," Jack began, "Accordin' to Lady Noire, you need a citizenship to travel on public transport between countries. And Lady Vert said that even though she didn't get me before Lady Noire did, she would have loved to have someone from Earth as a Leanbox citizen. I told her that I couldn't just trade in my citizenship, and then she gave me puppy eyes whilst cryin', then made me promise that the next bloke from Earth I encountered, I'd bring to Leanbox to get citizenship. So, uh, one of you lads gets the honour." Luke turned to look up at Jack from his seat on the hull of the tank, raising a brow with a look of confusion.

"Yeah, nah," he said flatly, "If you want, I'll have your citizenship so you can have the Leaguebox one." Jack shifted at the mispronunciation of a basic two syllable word. It seemed familiar.

He scratched his head. "Well, I don't think that'd be possible, unle-"

"Unless you had the citizenship papers which Noire wanted me to give you to take to Leanbox for editing because she couldn't stand the thought of you being a Lastation citizen?" Uni piped up, causing all eyes to look at her. Clutched in her hands in front her chest was a small stack of papers. Jack recognised them as the ones he'd drawn Lenny faces on as a signature, and raised his brows.

"That's...way too convenient..." he murmured, accepting the documents from Uni. He read them over. "Right...so, if you can figure out how to change these documents, then I'm pretty sure you'd be legally accounted for as a Lastation citizen. Have fun in the land ruled by a pair of bitches, and Uni." Uni was almost tempted to smile...but...she did sort of like Kei. She was businessy. And...uh...knew what was going on. Luke, meanwhile, had begun to clamber back into the cabin of the tank, prompting Jack to lean forward and look at him. "Where're you goin'?" Luke just grinned.

"Got something here I think you'll like. Give's a few minutes to get it ready." Jack just reclined back to lie on the tank's turret.

"Not like this boat goes any faster, so take your time."

_**A few minutes later...**_

"It's ready, Jack."

Jack sat up as the strong, familiar smell of greatness reached his nose. It wasn't Jasmine. It wasn't green.

It was some fucking _Gold_ tea, in a mid-sized plastic cup balanced on a saucer. He grinned. "You fuckin' legend," Jack laughed, accepting the saucer carefully and sitting up. His eyes fell on the silhouette of Leanbox in the distance, and he sipped his tea, the sun's rays beaming onto his face whilst the gentle sea breeze blew against him. It was bliss: He leaned his head back, looked up, and let out an 'Ahhhh' of appreciation. "Fuckin' _**ACE**_..." he called out to the sky.

For a few minutes, the four of them sat in absolute silence, gently drinking the cups of pure England and looking at the sunset. Nobody had anything to say. It was perfect.

Finally, Jack cleared his throat. "Say," he began, "None of you three would happen to know how to override this boat's speed limiters, right?" Luke disappeared back into the hatch for a second or two, before returning with a paperclip, bayonet, and a rubber band.

"On it," grinned the Irishman, hopping out of the front of the vehicle, and making his way around the tank to reach the cabin.

"He's way too eager," Josh muttered, shaking his head.

"What's the problem with bein' eager?" Jack asked. "Look at Uni; She's eager, and she's also fuckin' adorable and probably one of the closest people I've had to a best friend before any of you lot showed up again." The small black-haired girl looked up tearfully to Jack as Josh shook his head.

"A-and...you're..." Uni sniffed slightly, wiping away some tears, before smiling and suddenly wrapping her arms around Jack. "You're my first _friend_." For a few moments, there was no sound outside of the gentle chugging of the boat motor, seagulls, crashing waves, and Luke going through the AI aboard the boat's navigational computer. Slowly, Jack put his arms around Uni, and held onto her. The much smaller girl rested her head on his shoulder, and he could feel his shirt collar getting wet. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes, and smiled.

Josh smirked.

"Don't you fuckin' grin about this, cunt," Jack growled, not changing his facial expression. "Need I remind you that I saw somethin' white and crusty stainin' your seat in there, and a male model magazine next to your seat. Be a fuckin' shame if I told Lady Vert, or Lady Noire, or-"

"OK, OK, I get it," Josh snapped, before leaning stroppily onto his elbow and glaring out to sea.

Jack was fully aware that Uni was fragile. Apparently, she came into being through Shares being particularly high. She didn't have a mother, and her only family to speak of didn't particularly pay much attention to her. She rarely left the basilicom. He was fairly certain that this was her first trip outside of Lastation. Not only that, but she'd already said how nobody treated her seriously; They treated her either as a kid, or as royalty, and she didn't like it. She had made that clear.

He sighed.

That must have been why she was always so upset when he left.

He really was Uni's first ever friend.


	14. But I Don't Want to go in the Box!

Whilst Jack did take the liberty of calling ahead using the ferry radio to tell Chika that he'd be arriving a half hour early (after Luke somehow managed to ram the boat into overdrive and nearly cause Uni to fall into the ocean), it seemed that she didn't particularly need to know: She was already there, sat on a crate with her legs crossed and a glass of wine in her small hands, looking rather tiresomely out to sea. When Jack noticed this, he turned to Josh, Uni, and Luke. "Try and hide the Challenger, guys," he ordered. "I know what she's like. If she sees you three, she'll probably have a fit." Luke shrugged, idly inspecting his L85.

"Eh, whatever," he muttered, before gesturing to one of the loading bays with the barrel of his gun. "You go ahead and swim over to her. We'll dock around there." Jack gave a deadpan look.

"Why'm I fuckin' swimmin' there?" he groaned, looking at the water. In all fairness, the water was quite clean...

"Well, you said she'd have a fit," Josh shrugged. "I don't think you want to put up with your beloved..._Chika_, having a 'fit'." Jack glared at him as the boat drifted towards the dock, out of view of the oracle. Finally, he jabbed a finger towards him.

"I fuckin' hate you people," he said flatly. He paused, and pointed at Uni. "Except you. You're cool." She offered a smile, sitting on the tank's tread skirts and swinging her legs idly. "But you two, fuck you." With that, Jack turned, and jumped into the beautifully clear blue water with an almost non-existent splash. Uni looked at him in amazement as he swam away.

"...how did that make no splash?" she asked. Luke shrugged, and sipped his new cup of tea.

"We're the best at what we do."

"And that's what? Defying physics?" Uni asked.

"Whenever it's plot-convenient?"

"Yeah?"

"Then yeah, that's basically all we do."

_**Meanwhile, in front of Oracle Hakozaki...**_

"So, who were those guys?" Chika asked nonchalantly, sipping on her wine as Jack clambered out of the water at the dockside, completely bone dry for some inexplicable reason. He sighed, looking himself over. He looked to Chika, who was, as usual, sat with her legs crossed over, slightly reclined, with a glass of red wine in hand and her ample cleavage and noticeably perfect legs on clear display.

"First off," Jack retorted, "Why the fuck am I bone dry? I just swam in the fuckin' water!"

"Who's to say I'm dry right now?" smiled the Oracle. Jack dismissed her with a middle finger.

"Fuck off, not now," he snapped, "And second, how the fuck did you see them?"

"Well, I assume the fact you were standing on top of what I assume is an armored vehicle with them, silhouetted in front of the sun is one key feature in perceiving them," she replied calmly, raising a brow. "To summarise; You're as stable as a rope bridge and as subtle as a tank." Jack folded his arms, and glared into her eyes. Finally, Chika smiled, patting the box next to her. "Come here, you big softy." Jack smirked, and unfolded his arms, before approaching the place the woman was sitting before him, and seating himself down beside her.

"Y'know, it's really fuckin' difficult to stay pissed off at you, right?" he sighed. Chika simply gave a grin, and hooked her left arm around his right arm.

"Yeah, and that's the reason we get on so well, right?" she replied cheerfully. She paused, sipping her wine again. "So, who're they?"

"CPU candidate of Lastation, and two guys from back home," Jack said flatly. Chika perked up.

"Wait, _two_ people from your world?!" she sputtered, wiping the liquid she'd just sprayed everywhere off her pristine black dress. Jack nodded.

"Aye. One of them wants a citizenship in Lastation, and the other's said he wants to go to Planeptune." Chika pouted, placing her glass down and folding her arms.

"Then that means Lastation has two..." she muttered, grumpily looking away.

"Nah, it means Lady Noire's sick of me and wants me to get citizenship somewhere else," Jack corrected. "So, here I am. My favourite country." He cast a glance behind him, to check where the other three were. He was fairly certain he caught a glance of them hiding behind a shipping container, one above the other like Scooby Doo. Frowning, he called over. "NICE HIDIN', UNI! TOOK ME A MINUTE TO SEE YOU! AND WHAT'RE YOU TWO OTHER DICKHEADS DOIN' OVER THERE?!" he yelled. "FUCKIN' COME ON, YOU WANKERS! UNI, WOULD YOU MIND COMIN' OVER HERE? IT'S ALL FINE." As the three of them began to approach, Jack turned to Chika. "I like Uni, Uni's good." Just then, he noticed that the Oracle was giving him a tearful look.

"Y-You..." she began. "Just said...L-Leanbox is your _favourite_ country?" Cautiously, after a moment, Jack slowly nodded.

"...aye...?" Instantly, Chika threw herself at him, wrapping him into a hug and knocking him clean off the box he was sat on and onto the ground, loudly bawling and shouting 'Thank you' and 'It means so much to me that you said that'. For her size, Jack admitted she was _very_ bloody strong. He could barely move, so he simply had to lie there with Chika wrapping her legs around his and hugging him incredibly tightly as Luke, Josh, and Uni showed up. "Smile all you fuckin' want, guys," Jack grunted, "But she's fuckin' strong." Luke simply stood, watching with his hands in his pockets and L85 swinging by his side.

"_Massive_ tits, as well," he remarked.

_**Two hours later, at the basilicom...**_

Luke winced as he bit into a piece of the chicken he was eating, pausing to rub the side of his face and curse. Everyone else around the considerably long table, including Chika, Uni, Vert, as well as Josh and Jack, stared at him in amusement, most of them giving shit-eating smirks. Finally, noticing their gazes, Luke set down his cutlery angrily and glared at them all. "The fuck are you all looking at? _Really_?" he snapped. "Eat your own fucking meals, and leave me to my fucking pains." After a pause, Jack turned to Chika, who was sat next to him, and offered his hand.

"I said it once, I'll say it again and a-fuckin'-gain," he grinned, "But that was the single greatest slap I've ever fuckin' seen. _Ever._ Fuckin' nice one, Oracle." The green-haired woman cheerfully accepted the handshake.

"Well, I _do_ try my best," she beamed, briefly flexing her muscles for a moment. Vert giggled quietly, continuing to eat the chicken she had on her (rather fancy) plate.

"Though I'm not particularly one for such acts," she began, "I feel as though it's appropriate to point out I heard it through my headset _and_ from inside my chambers. Truly an impressive swing, Chika." The Oracle stretched her arms against the table and reclined in her chair, her expression suggesting she was enjoying the praise, _especially_ Vert's.

"It's not fucking fun when you're receiving it," Luke grunted sharply, rubbing his jaw. It was sporting a vibrant red handprint, perfectly shaped to Chika's gentle hands.

"First off," Jack cut in, "That's what she said. Second off-"

"Don't talk about a woman's ta-tas in front of her," Josh finished smartly through a mouthful of salad. There was silence, with only the sound of cutlery against plates filling the ornate room. Jack turned to Chika.

"Well, you can't exactly say he's _lyin'_ that you have an _extremely_ nice body. I suppose you must exercise a lot or somethin', otherwise you couldn't look that good." Jack noted, cutting off a large piece of food and shoving it into his mouth. The table tensed slightly, awaiting the sickening crack of Chika's dreaded palm against her male friend's face. Instead, the red-eyed woman simply giggled.

"Oh, stop it, you," she smiled, playfully punching his shoulder. Jack smirked for a moment, then they both continued eating like nothing had happened. Luke threw his hands up.

"ARE YOU HAVING A FUCKING LAUGH?!" he practically yelled, prompting Uni to recoil away from him slightly. "HE JUST SPOKE ABOUT YOUR TITS, RIGHT TO YOUR FACE, AND YOU DON'T DO SHIT?!" Chika raised a brow.

"Because I don't find him as creepy as I find you," she retorted bluntly. "You're tall, dressed like a murderer, visibly armed, and from what Mr. Edwards and Mr. Lovebun tell me, you're a 'pikey'. Thus, I find your presence...well, _more_ than worrying." Luke glared at Josh and Jack.

"Ohhh, fuck, nooo, I didn't tell her _that_..." Jack grinned, sipping from the bowl he had been given to hold his drink.

"Me? Say that about _you_? Never," Josh added, casually checking his nails with a victorious smirk on his face. There was a moment of silence. Finally, Luke spoke up.

"Alright then: Josh, let's discuss those male modelling magazines of yours that you've got next to your seat in the Challenger, with Lady Vert." Josh's eyes went wide, and Jack quickly got up from his seat, and walked around the table to cover Uni's ears. Her worried facial expression didn't particularly change, and she eyed the mute verbal tirade with concern. Vert raised a brow, and looked at Josh.

"You look at male models?" she asked, surprised. Josh, completely red, shook his head.

"NO, NO, I DON'T, THIS IS JUST LUKE BEING AN ARSE!" he said quickly.

"Then do I need to go fucking get them for you?" Luke cut in.

"IF YOU DO THAT, I SWEAR TO GOD-!" Josh yelled back.

"Then obviously there's something there, ain't there?" Luke grinned. Josh buried his head further into his hands. Jack continued smiling at the exchange, before Luke jabbed a finger at him. "Oh, don't think I've not got shit on you, _Scotsman_." Jack raised a brow.

"Thanks, you, uh, pointed out my family heritage," he said flatly. "Um...congrats. You can fuckin' listen to summat I've mentioned a considerable number of times."

"Just like when you _legally_ changed your surname? From William Wallace to Jack _London?_"

"And like how you changed yours at the same time, like we were meant to? From-"

"SHUT. UP."

"Rrrrrrr-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

"Riiiiiii-"

"SHUTTHEFUCKUPJESUSCHRISTYOUPIECEOFSHITI'LLFUCKINGKILLYOU"

"-Richard Head to Lucas Black?"

"That's it, I'm actually going to stab you now." As Luke attempted (unsuccessfully) to attack Jack (who still hadn't moved his hands from protecting Uni's sensitive little ears, d'aww), Vert and Chika shared confused glances for a moment.

"...why is 'Richard Head' a bad name?" Vert asked. Chika shrugged. "Hmm. I don't particularl-oh." She paused, mulling it over. Then, the goddess smiled. Then she began to chuckle, then laugh, then finally throw her head back, and broke down screeching with laughter, slamming her small fists on the table with tears in her eyes. Chika continued staring in confusion. She, too, looked down slightly to think about it. She didn't get it.

The Oracle instead opted to sit back in her chair, cross her arm over her chest, and put her free hand into rubbing her chin, trying to figure out why the name was as funny as Lady Vert made it out to be. Uni, meanwhile, was surprised by how steady Jack could keep her head with his hands _whilst_ he was being attacked with a fork.

Josh didn't want to be alive anymore.

_**Breakfast, the next morning...**_

Jack entered the dining room about ten minutes later than everyone else, so conversation was already present and food was being served. He rather did like the food in Leanbox: It was practically the same as it was back home in England. However, he wasn't just there for the food; He was in a slightly better mood that morning due to the fact that his two good friends from Earth were actually getting along fairly well with his good friends from Gamindustri. However, it was considerably dampened by the fact that he had been kept up that night by the sound of low-flying jets. Nobody else seemed to look like they lost any sleep, though, so maybe it was just in his mind.

Setting himself down, he offered a short, truly British greeting to Lady Vert, and to Oracle Hakozaki. "Mornin', ladies," he grunted. Vert smiled.

"Good morning, Mr. Glovebox," she said warmly. "I trust that you slept well?" He shook his head.

"Not at all," he sighed, pouring some water from an ornate metal jug into a tiny glass. "Some twat was flyin' a plane over'ead all night. Not even leavin' the area or runnin' out of petrol, either: Just constantly back and forth over the fuckin' basilicom." Chika frowned.

"Hmm. Now that you bring that up," she began, lowering her knife and fork. "I do recall being woken by a distant sound. Sort of like something blowing up." Jack gave a nod.

"That's when the noise stopped. Hopefully the dickhead crashed his plane into a skyscraper and fuckin' died." Josh glared at him from over the table.

"Stop it, Jack, you'll just get the audience angry because you're being insensitive," he ordered. Jack raised his hands.

"See, there's that fuckin' 'audience' thing agai-"

Just before he could finish complaining about the fourth wall that everybody but him could break, there was a knock on the door. "Enter!" Vert called out, and a moment later, the door swung open to reveal someone who, to Josh and Luke, looked to be a red-haired maid with a flat expression, giant tits, and no trousers. Jack turned, assessing her for a moment as she entered the room and made her way over to Lady Vert at the head of the table. "Oh, good morning, Cave. As punctual as ever, I see," smiled the goddess. The woman, who Jack was still trying to recall the face of, smiled lightly in response and curtseyed slightly.

"It is part of my job, Lady Vert," Cave replied, turning to look at Jack, Luke, and Josh, who were all sat beside each other. "I can only assume these are the three 'VIPs' you want me to keep an eye on." Vert nodded.

"That would be correct, yes," she said calmly. "In spite of seeing Mr. Glovebox's combat prowess firsthand, I cannot be certain of the skill possessed by Mr. Edwards and Mr..." She paused, concealing a laugh and grin as Luke's eye started twitching. "..._Head_. Apologies, Richard." Cave offered no response to suggest she understood the joke, instead circling around the table between Uni and Chika, placing her hands on the table to stare the three men down.

"So I understand you three are planning to find more people like yourself?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"Aye, we are," he replied. "And apparently you're lookin' after us, against what's actually necessary."

Vert raised a hand. "I must politely inform you that in spite of your position of servitude to Leanbox, I still do not feel comfortable around a giant with a shotgun," she said with a calm facial expression. Cave acknowledged Jack's statement regardless, standing up.

"Then it is my duty to ensure you do not come to harm." Josh smiled.

"Cool, a bodyguard," he laughed, turning to Jack. "You're too good to us, you know?" Before Jack could call him a posh cunt and to go shove his opinions up his butler's arse, Cave had coughed, making her way around the table to stand behind Jack.

"In actuality, it was not specified that I should defend you two," she corrected. Josh's jaw fell open, and Luke folded his arms with a look of angered confusion. "The orders given to me by the Leanbox RRoD are as follows; 'You are to follow and defend both Mr. J. Loneman and Mr. J. Hillman at all costs, regardless of situation.' Nowhere in my orders does it specify that I am to defend you two." She paused, before looking at Luke angrily. "If you continue to look at my chest, I _will_ hurt you." The tall lad quickly looked away, and began eyeing up Vert. Cave took the opportunity to lean on Jack's shoulder. "As mentioned, it is my job to follow you and ensure no harm comes to you whilst you look for your...'fellow worldsmen'." Jack smiled, and nodded.

"Well, that's fine by me," he replied casually. "Also, if you don't mind me mentionin' it, I think I know you from somewhere." Cave, without changing her facial expression, stood and nodded, hands behind her back.

"Yes: We were both in a public bath. I noticed the significant number of scars on your torso. You were not very fluent in discussion, seemingly due to your lack of garments. However, I was also not wearing any clothing, which did not impede my social skills on such a level as yours." There was silence, and a few jaws fell open around the room. Jack stared ahead for a moment.

"Well, fuck me sideways, you're bloody right," he murmured. He paused, before turning to look at her. "Good to see you again, Miss Cave." The maid-like woman smiled.

"Likewise, Mr. Lonesome," she nodded. Josh looked at the two in awe.

"Wait, you two got _naked_?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Cave replied in her eerily calm manner. "If you do not mind me mentioning it, I believe his physique is significantly more impressive than either yours, or your tall friend's." Luke sat up.

"Hey, fuck you, bitch!" he snapped. Jack had somehow teleported around the table to cover Uni's ears. The CPU Candidate was confused as to why she couldn't listen to Luke swearing, but could listen to Jack's exceptionally foul mouth without any need for ear protection. "I'm not that physically built because I don't want to look like an absolute meathead, like Jack!" Jack shot him a glare.

"Oh, pardon me," he snapped back, "But I can pick up a fuckin' car engine, strap it to an axel, then use it as a fuckin' _hammer_! You can't do shit like that! In fact, I think even Miss Chika has bigger muscles than you do, you frail twat." To punctuate, the Oracle flexed her arm. Nothing happened. "See? Proof."

Vert turned to Chika (who had started looking at her arms with the slightest bit of contempt), and smiled. "I do enjoy having Mr. Lovebun in Leanbox. He's always such a ray of sunshine." Her facial expression wavered slightly when the sound of cutlery being thrown across the room rang out, accompanied by swearing, and Uni uncharacteristically _laughing_. Chika raised a brow.

"My lady, you are aware that Lady Noire of Lastation has had him bring his citizenship papers to Leanbox?" she asked. "She's apparently sick of the thought of him being a Lastation citizen and would rather he took up citizenship here." Vert's face was blank for a moment, until a rather alarming grin crept onto her face.

_**That afternoon...**_

In spite of it being after work hours, there was a rather low number of people in the nearby town square itself, with a few here and there enjoying the sun. Jack and Uni were no exceptions, sitting down in the same café where he and James had planned to get their food the night of the robbery. However, this time, there wasn't going to be any interruptions: Jack was going to get his sausage and chips, and he was also going to pay for whatever Uni wanted to eat. "You hungry?" asked the Brit, looking down at the small girl wandering along beside him. She looked up, and smiled.

"Kinda," she replied, "Are we buying food? I thought the basilicom would serve food." Jack nodded as they reached the entrance to the café. He rang the service bell.

"They do," he explained, "But accordin' to Lady Vert, she doesn't have the heart to tell 'em it's pretty bad. So, normally, she sends Chika out to buy lunch, then bring it back to the basilicom, because she's worried that if she sent a member of basilicom staff, they'd rat her out to the kitchens." Uni stared blankly at him. "The food's shit, basically." She raised her head in an 'oh' of understanding as the waitress arrived.

"Table for two?" she smiled. Jack nodded.

"Aye, that'll do."

"I assume an outside table?"

"Yes indeed."

"Very well: Follow me." As usual, Jack was much taller than the woman serving, and Uni was even shorter than her. It amused him, as usual, in spite of the fact he probably should've gotten used to everybody being tiny. Once he and Uni had sat down at the table (surprisingly, the same one that he'd sat at on the night of the attempted robbery), the waitress handed them menus and moved off. Jack cast one glance at it, before dropping it down onto the table.

"Already know what I'm havin', so take your time," he whistled, reclining slightly and crossing his legs. Uni tilted her head.

"That was quick." She paused, narrowing her eyes. "Have you been here before?"

"Indeed I have," he nodded, smiling. "Didn't get a chance to order anythin', because the bank over there was raided by some Commie bastards and James and I stopped them. Pretty good evenin'."

"So...why didn't you get food after?"

"Dunno. Probably forgot. But it _is_ where I picked up the Deagle and the Double-Barrel. So that's cool." Uni giggled.

"Yeah, I guess." For a few minutes, neither of them said anything as Uni eagerly looked over the menu. The silence was interrupted by the sound of Jack sighing. Uni quickly looked up, appearing rather sad. "Wh-What's wrong? Sorry if I'm taking too long..." she trailed off.

"No, not that," Jack dismissed, "I'm just sighin' because Cave thinks she's bein' sneaky." Uni looked at him in confusion, before she suddenly noticed the red-haired woman in question standing right behind him with her usual, stoic expression.

"Uh! H-Hello, Miss Cave!" Uni blurted. Cave gave a simple nod.

"Good afternoon."

"...I-I'll be honest, I didn't see you standing there..."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of. I am a member of the Special Missions Department, so it is expected of me to be of a quiet nature." Jack turned in his chair, looking at her. Sat down, he came to about her breast-level, if not a bit shorter, so he had to look up so as to not look like a perv.

"What, so you're all spies, or summat?" he asked, scratching his jaw.

"In a way."

"Then cloak-and-dagger your arse in here and sit down, I'm buyin'." Cave suddenly looked confused.

"Why...what...are you inviting me to have lunch?" she asked suspiciously. Jack's eyes moved from left to right as he looked confused.

"...yeeeeaaah...is that a problem or summat?" he nodded. "Just didn't fancy the idea that you'd be standin' behind us in this weather without anythin' to eat or drink, so I figured it'd only be polite to invite you to get some food. I'm payin', anyway." The bodyguard looked at him for a moment with a flat expression, before finally sighing, and walking along the metal fence that ran the edge of the café's outside decking, entering the patio area, and then promptly pulling up a chair at Jack and Uni's table. As she sat, she groaned. "Uncomfy?" Jack asked. Cave shook her head, and smiled.

"No, I find it to be a relief, more than anything else," she replied, reclining slightly. "I have been walking behind you two all day."

"All day?!" Uni gasped. "You're really sneaky!"

"As mentioned, it's SMD requirement that I be able to enter areas, follow people, and observe targets without being noticed."

"So...you're like a hitman. Uh, hit_woman_?" Jack asked.

"If the time calls for it, yes."

Uni shifted her seat a few inches away from Cave.

"I, uh, I think I'm done ordering."


	15. Plane Stopper

That night, when he was certain he wasn't being watched, Jack exited his guest chambers and crept down the corridor to get to Luke and Josh's rooms. The only sound was the occasional, quiet cough from a guard outside, the city life in the distance, and the occasional bad language from Vert's room. Jack still hadn't figured out why she just sat in her room, talking to herself and loudly making sexual innuendoes towards her own Mum, but that wasn't his business. Regardless, he couldn't let anyone know what he was planning.

Just as he made it down the corridor he was in, there was a yawn from around the corner. Quickly, he crouched under a table, and waited in the darkness. After a few moments, there came the barefooted steps on carpet of a woman, dragging her feet and occasionally a making a noise suggesting she was scratching her arse. Once she'd gone past, Jack stuck his head out and looked to see who it was that was awake at two o'clock in the morning.

To his surprise, shuffling down the corridor was a rather dishevelled-looking Chika, who had her eyes half open, hair sticking up in places, and a set of green pajamas. He wasn't particularly sure where she was goi-

She stumbled, tripped, and fell flat onto the carpet with her rear end pointing up and arms limp by her sides. Though the sound was quiet, a few moments passed before Jack heard the sounds of snoring coming from her direction. He smirked. "Sleepwalker, eh...?" he murmured, rolling from under the table, and to a crouch-walk down the corridor.

If his memory served him rightly (and it normally did, not counting the fact he only remembered Cave because he remembered being naked with her), Luke and Josh were in the eastern wing guest chambers. By Lady Vert's request, obviously: She still hadn't dropped her opinion that Luke was a criminal because of his appearance, or that Josh was a serial killer because he was posh and stared ahead at things whilst frowning and holding sharp objects, so she requested that their guest rooms be on the opposite side of the basilicom.

That meant Jack somehow had to sneak through the lobby.

That would be like trying to get a Vulcan Minigun through airport customs whilst wearing a turban and carrying a bag of flour.

_**After six alert phases...**_

"Jesus, that was mad," Jack whistled quietly, stuffing the mysterious phone that had appeared in his pocket into a plant-pot, which silenced the ringing noise coming from Octagon's calling. He turned to the doorway he had reached, and peered through the keyhole. He didn't need to cover the sides of his eye due to the darkness of the hallway, which meant he got a clear view into Luke's room.

What he saw surprised him.

Standing in the room, with their combat equipment being readied, were Luke _and_ Josh. The balcony doors were opened, and, as if on a convenient cue, they both moved to the balcony, and vaulted the railing into the car park below.

"Where're you two goin'...?" Jack murmured, narrowing his eyes and withdrawing his eye from the keyhole. He scratched his chin in thought, staying in a low crouch in the darkness. They couldn't have stolen anything: Lady Vert ordered the guards to keep a close eye on Luke, and Josh wasn't the type to steal. Nor could they have guild work: The guild only accepts completed work during the day, never at night.

Perhaps they'd gone out to fight monsters? If that was the case, Jack didn't understand why they were doing it late at night, or why they vaulted into the car park.

That's when it hit him.

The Challenger.

The Challenger was in the car park. They needed the Challenger for something, but Lady Vert had expressly forbid them from using it unless it was of grave importance. Were they leaving?

Those scoundrels!

Josh still owed him a fiver. Slimy git was just running from his debts, the bastard.

Jack frowned, and withdrew his combat knife from his disk. Then, without further adieu, he poked the end of it into the keyhole, which in true lockpicking fashion, only needed a little bit more twisting to be able to pop the door open. The quiet click indicated he could withdraw his knife from the keyhole, and he did so carefully, gently twisting the handle and pushing the door open.

What he was doing felt completely and utterly wrong. He had trained for a year to know that entering any unidentified structure, or enemy-controlled building, required you to kick down the door and make one-liners whilst finding increasingly more brutal ways to kill the occupants. Sneaking inside just felt weird. Nevertheless, he would probably get his fair share of action later, so he decided to just stick with it. Upon entering the room, he carefully shut the door and began moving about to go through Luke's (noticeably few) belongings. It was a clean sweep, Jack had to admit; Luke had taken everything he would have needed, and left everything he didn't. Jack took offense, since this even included the small notepad drawing of Luke that Uni had done for him, which lay on the bedside table. The bed sheets hadn't been touched, so that probably meant they'd both been planning their exit for a while.

Whilst he was at first tempted to browse the next room for information, since that would likely have been Josh's room, he was certain that he wouldn't get much to go on, either. Narrowing his eyes, he picked up Uni's drawing, and carefully placed it into the pocket of his jeans. "She's gonna be so upset..." he sighed. As he was about to leave, there came the sudden sound of a revving engine from outside. A _loud_ engine, definitely; The room was at least three stories up, so it would have needed to have been loud for him to have heard it so clearly. Jack rushed to the balcony, and quickly looked over the edge, just in time to see the massive bulky shape of the Challenger 2 trundling straight out of the open basilicom gates. "Shite," he said slightly louder than expected.

"Not the word I would have used, but I suppose it fits."

Jack quickly span at the voice, pulling the Deagle from his disk and bringing it to bear on his unknown follower. However, his unknown follower was significantly faster, meaning he felt a solid object slamming into his crotch, followed by something smacking him in the side of the face and another thing ripping the gun from his hands. Whilst he was reeling, what definitely felt like an arm wrapped around the top of his neck, and a large squishy thing started pushing against the right side of his face.

His dick still hurt. He was probably going to cry.

"The FUCK?!" Jack grunted, trying to remove the forearm from the front of his neck, but to no avail. He tried elbowing his attacker, but also to no avail. "What do you fuckin' want, whoever the shite you are?!"

"I want you to explain what you think you're doing, breaking and entering into basilicom rooms!" came the voice. Jack paused.

"Ca-Cave?!"

"Indeed. Now what were you doing sneaking around? You had best have a good reason, or I'll need to inform the CPU." Jack pushed at the arm slightly more, though he wasn't sure he wanted to leave, considering what Cave was (most likely inadvertently) pushing into his face. The woman didn't relent, instead tightening her grip and further squishing her breast into Jack's face. Finally, he admitted defeat.

"Fine," came his muffled voice. "But first, can you take your boob out of my face? I think I'm gonna fuckin' suffocate, I can't soddin' breathe." Cave glared down at him.

"Speak up!" she ordered sharply, tightening her vice-like grip and moving her inner elbow over his mouth, likely unknowingly. The edges of Jack's vision were going dark.

"Fmmmkn...gdduff..." he whined, trying to elbow Cave in the stomach. His attacks were starting to slow down, and he'd started feeling light-headed. "F-Fmmmkn...gdd...ufff..." he repeated quietly, his arm finally going limp.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was something warm and squishy being pressed violently against the side of his face, and Cave's strangely distant voice saying "_Oh, not again..._"

_**Twenty minutes later...**_

Gently, Jack's eyes fluttered open. His head was pounding, but he didn't particularly care. Instead, he began to peer around his surroundings. It was morning, and he was back in his room.

Had he been dreaming?

That was a pretty fucking dumb dream.

And why did the right side of his face smell like fucking cherries?

He sighed, and sat up. Outside of the headache, he felt fairly well-rested. What time was it? The sun wasn't glaring in through his window, so it couldn't have been early in the day. He shifted uncomfortably. Whoever the hell put him into his bed again hadn't moved his bandoliers: He had been lying down for however long with a couple of shotgun shells digging into his spine. Grimacing, he rolled slightly, and shifted the bandolier across his back to move the shells and rub the area they'd dug into. Yup, even through the armour, he felt it. Carefully, he tried to lean forward, being greeted by the delightful chorus of his spine clicking loudly and a fighter jet engin-

"_**RIGHT, YOU KNOW WHAT?!**_" he yelled, throwing the covers off his body and jumping to his feet. Thankfully, he was still fully dressed, meaning he looked even more psychotic as he kicked the door to his chambers open, much to the shock of the thirteen or fourteen people that were in the corridor. Growling in an alarmingly tiger-like way, he marched over to the nearby window in the hall, and shoved it open to see where the pilot was. After a moment of aggressively scanning the horizon, he finally caught sight of a small, black plane in the distance, looping around for another pass over the Basilicom. He jabbed his finger towards the moving aircraft, and leaned out of the window.__"_**THAT'S IT, YOU AIRBORNE CUNT, I'M GONNA SHOOT YOU DOWN AND SHOVE EVERY FUCKIN' PIECE OF THAT BLOODY JET UP YOUR ARSE!**_" Quickly, Jack turned, and began to run down the hallway to the staircase at an almost inhuman speed, weaving in and out between passing maids, butlers, and inbetween a conversation held by Uni and Chika, who offered no reaction to the green-and-black blur that shot past them. After a moment, Chika sniffed, and cast a glance towards the direction he had sprinted in, watching him expertly slide beneath two butlers carrying a table laden with priceless glassware.

"I see he's finally woken up," the Oracle said flatly. "Not like him to sleep for this long."

"And you'd know that, huh? How close are you two that you know when he gets up?" Uni asked, folding her arms and pouting slightly. Chika simply offered a smug grin, and folded her arms beneath her breasts.

"Wait until you get older, kid, and then you can fully appreciate it," she said calmly.

Jack finally reached the stairs, running straight past the start of the stairway that led down and instead running directly towards the wall opposite. Grabbing the railing to his left at the last second, he put his foot on the wall and used it as a pseudo-launchpad, briefly wall-running and finally landing straight down at the foot of the spiral staircase on the floor below. "Fuckin' ACED," he said, seemingly angrily.

Whatever.

He had shit to do.

He set his eyes straight ahead, finally kicking open the door to the Basilicom's patio and running straight outside into the sun. Almost conveniently, he could see the plane directly ahead over the city, making a loop so it could directly pass over the gardens and Basilicom. Jack didn't even pause: He reached into his disk, and withdrew the double-barrel, and snapped open the chambers, ejecting the shells already present onto the patio's tiles. Then, he reached onto his bandolier, and withdrew a pair of solid grey-coloured shells, loading them into the gun and flicking it shut. He raised it to his shoulder, and took aim towards the approaching jet. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, attempting to gain a good sightline on the engine vents next to the cockpit, until he finally closed his left eye.

A perfect shot.

The aircraft screamed ever closer, and he could feel the ground shaking as it approached at a low altitude. If he looked hard enough, he could see that the guy inside was someone he didn't recognise from training. Coupled with Chika previously mentioning that they didn't organise these flypasts, that meant the jet was fair game.

Once the jet's nosecone had just gone over the boundaries of the Basilicom garden, Jack pulled both triggers, the recoil sending two high-explosive round tearing side-by-side towards the plane's engine vent. A split second later, there was a burst of flames and a small explosion on the plane's engine, knocking the aircraft significantly and causing it to begin to lose its stability. Flames poured from the vent, but it continued to fly in a straight path over the Basilicom.

The pilot, however, was having none of it: A moment later, there was the loud hiss of an ejection, the plane screeching overhead like an angry panther, then up above, the sound of a parachute being opened. Without hesitation, Jack had broken his shotgun open and removed the two high-explosive shells, replacing them on his bandolier and slipping in two bright red buckshot shells. He'd picked up both of them from the floor the day after he had arrived in Gamindustri for the first time, since he had been wholly unsure as to how his endless ammunition worked, but they had been soaking in Dogoo remains for a good half hour before he noticed them and retrieved them. They had been marked with a small cross, so he was hoping that they were good to go.

He glanced up towards the pilot.

Then, he quickly turned and sprinted to his right as the loud rattle of sub-machine gunfire rang out around the garden. Up above, the downed airman was parachuting down towards the ground with a stockless MP5K in hand, but he was clearly _not_ your average RyanAir pilot. Rather than the usual thermal clothing, he seemed to be wearing a modified set of light body-armour, crossed with flight overalls and the massive helmet you'd expect from pilots. Though, his looked more like a dirt bike helmet that had been _turned_ into a pilot's helmet, but that wasn't Jack's business.

A quick dive forwards allowed him to get behind a low wall, just as alarms began ringing around the basilicom behind him. "Well, that's just fuckin' _ace_," he groaned, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. He decided that for a tactical situation, a double-barrel wasn't the best choice, and so threw it to the side and let it disappear into a flurry of pink particles. Then, he mentally cycled through his disk's contents, settling on the Skorpion. The small, pistol-sized automatic popped up in a matter of moments, dropping into his hand for him to rack the small bolt on. After a brief pause, he listened out to the other side of the wall.

There. Fabric hitting the ground, and somebody unbuckling a harness. He heard the sound of the clips being unfastened, and that meant he had a chance to strike. After a brief exhale, he swept his left leg along the ground in an arc, and shifted his weight onto that leg, Skorpion held in his left hand and aimed directly at the figure standing in the middle of the grassy garden. Jack levelled the weapon's sights at the man, steadied his aim, and then recoiled back into cover.

What he hadn't noticed was that the pilot was removing his parachute one-handedly and holding his MP5K at his waist, which meant he was prepared to fire at Jack. Which he did, quite effectively; He felt a few bullets smack into the armour on his left thigh, prompting him to quickly jolt behind the wall again or face more rounds. He grimaced, as footsteps became apparent on the grass, running away from him. "Oh, no you fuckin' **DON'T.**" Jack growled, chucking his Skorpion over his shoulder and taking the Deagle from his disk. Stepping out of cover as a small contingent of guards began pouring out of the basilicom, he took aim with the large handgun, straight at the back of the fleeing pilot. "Hold still." He steadied his aim, and braced himself.

Then the pilot tripped over, dropping straight to the floor, and then beginning to roll down the hill as his MP5 went flying. Jack pointed his pistol into the air, and stared at this in bemusement for a moment. Then he began to run after the man, being sure to swipe the MP5 by its sling as he went along, just in case one of the guards became curious as to how good it was. Dropping it over his shoulder to hang by the strap, Jack dodged around a gardener (Who, I might add, was still bewildered and frightened by the previous gunfight) as he finally reached the downed pilot.

Said pilot had pulled himself up to sit by a marble flower container, and judging by the angle his foot was at, he must have busted himself up really bad. He was also in the process of checking the magazine of a 1911 Nighthawk model, presumably for a last stand, of sorts. Thus, Jack deemed it necessary to walk up beside him and kick the pistol out of his hands. The man gasped through a filtered mask as the gun flew from his grasp, and shifted quickly away from the armed maniac in front of him, who was dramatically holding a Desert Eagle towards his visor whilst the silvered weapon glinted wickedly in the sun. "Consider yourself fuckin' grounded, you wanker." Jack said flatly. Just as he was about to turn and check where the soldiers were, he noticed the man in front of him suddenly dart forward towards his broken ankle. He also noticed the pommel of a KABAR knife peeking from the top of his boot.

Without further remorse, Jack pulled the trigger once and shot the airman straight in his broken leg's knee, who screeched out in pain and began clutching the area which Jack had shot. The screaming was slightly garbled by his mask, but Jack could hear it. Glaring, he crouched down and grabbed the pilot's helmet, turning his head to face him. "Man up!" he yelled straight at his victim's visor. "You think that shit hurts? Try dealin' with the recoil from shootin' a Deagle one-'anded! It fuckin' canes! So I suggest you stop fuckin' whinin', or I'll snap your wrists and give you the fuckin' Deagle Experience!" He finished by slamming the man's head back against the marble plant holder behind him, standing up, and delivering a swift kick to the man's ankle. The pilot yelped audibly, moving to the side slightly and holding himself up with one shaking arm.

Jack, meanwhile, had walked away to take the man's pistol from the grass where it lay, just as the armed women ran past behind him and surrounded the pilot. The gun stood out, for certain; Solid black build in cartoonishly green grass. Without a hesitation, he bent down and picked it up, then began to make his way up the hill towards the basilicom. Up at the top, he could see a circle of armed guards surrounding one of the outside tables.

Of course.

Lady Vert normally went outside for a cup of tea at that time.

So she saw that.

Shit.

As Jack reached the building, he heard the sound of a half-dozen different rifles being levelled towards him. Sighing, he slipped the Nighthawk into his trouser pocket, and raised his hands, slowly turning to face the group of women. "Great. Fuckin' great."

"You're under arrest," the lead woman announced, pointing her TAR-21 clone at him.

"Am I, now?" Jack retorted sharply. "Are you takin' the piss? You have _got_ to be shittin' me with this load of bollocks." Before the woman could make another demand, a different voice rang out.

"Girls, please," came Lady Vert's soft voice. "Lower your weapons. Mr. Lovebun, please do the same. I would like to have a discussion with you." Hesitantly, the soldiers slowly lowered their guns. Without hesitation, Jack dropped his hands and put his thumb around the sling of his recently commandeered MP5K, and began idly fiddling with it.

"Alright, Lady Vert," he said flatly as a pair of guards pointed to the seat opposite the goddesses' and guided him to it, "What're you wantin' to discuss?" The blonde sipped her tea.

"I'll put it plainly." Vert placed her cup and saucer down onto the table, and gave Jack an uncharacteristically serious expression. "I would like you to explain to me why you were sneaking around the basilicom last night." Jack raised a brow.

"Oh, OK, so that wasn't some weird arse dream I was havin'," he muttered, scratching his chin. "Alright. I think my primary objective in sneakin' about was to keep an eye on Luke and Josh." Vert kept up her severe expression.

"I thought you said they were to be trusted."

"And they are," Jack retorted sharply. "But last night, you might have heard the sound of an engine. That sound was them tearin' away in the Challenger for summat." The goddess frowned.

"Even though I told them to leave it..." she murmured.

"They're not gonna listen to you, Lady Vert. Far as they're concerned, they're not citizens _anywhere_ in Gamindustri, so they don't need to listen to the goddesses."

"Then what can we do?" Vert asked worriedly. "You know them best: What are they likely to use a tank for?"

Jack sighed, and reclined in his chair. "Unfortunately, the only answer I can give you for certain is probably 'entertainment', plain and simple. Those two get along like Hitler and Stalin did before Hitler made the mistake of fuckin' with the USSR, so wherever one goes, you're gonna find the other."

"Then they're a massive security risk to Leanbox, if we don't know what they're going to do."

"I doubt that. I've known Josh long enough that I know he hates hurtin' innocent people and animals, and he'll bitch at Luke if he tries. There's next to no chance of them causin' damage to the city or hurtin' anyone innocent. If anythin', it's more likely they'll be..." Jack paused, and sat up. "Shite." Vert tilted her head.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly.

"I think I just had an idea of what they're gonna try and do."

"Do tell."

"You remember you have a Mobster problem?" Jack asked, standing up. Vert nodded. "Because I think they've gone off to try solvin' that problem." The guards nearby bristled slightly, in preparation that he might do something aggressive. However, coming up the hill was the huge cluster of soldiers, helping the pilot up and being careful not to touch his wounded leg. As he reached the basilicom's patio, he stumbled, and dropped to the ground. Then he started screaming again, prompting the women that were helping him to begin fussing over him and apologizing profusely.

Vert, looking worried, cast a glance to Jack. "I thought you had...um..." She searched for the right words. "..._sorted_ him?" Jack dismissed her with a hand.

"Kneecapped him, actually," he replied flatly, causing Vert to swallow hard and a few guards to shift uncomfortably at the thought. "Buggered my wrist. And I'd be careful if I were you: Bastard's got a KABAR in his boot."

"I doubt he'll use it."

"He was flyin' an F22 overhead, and the moment he ejected he started unloadin' with this," Jack raised the black MP5K slightly. "Even when he'd landed badly, he was readyin' a Nighthawk for a last stand or summat. I kicked it away, and then he went for the KABAR, so I kneecapped him. He's a sneaky git, I'll give him that, but I'm not willin' to give him the chance to hurt anyone else." Jack looked to one of the guards, who recoiled slightly as he pointed at her. "You. Get his knife. In his left boot. Don't stop if he starts screaming."

The woman just gripped her rifle tighter, and, shaking, looked quickly to Lady Vert. The goddess sighed. "Mr. Lovebun. He's not going to be going anywhere with that leg. Leave him alone." Jack rolled his eyes.

"You want me to bloody do it?" he retorted. "This bloke trained the same way I did, but seemed to get more focus on aircraft trainin'. Doesn't mean he can't cause a _lot_ of damage, so unless you want him goin' around the basilicom and killin' anyone in his way, I suggest you let me take the fuckin' knife from his boot." Vert narrowed her eyes at Jack.

"Leave him alone," she repeated.

"What, and let you lot get fucked when he gets loose? I don't fuckin' thi-"

"**LEAVE HIM ALONE."** Vert suddenly yelled, causing everyone nearby to recoil in fright at the usually quite calm goddesses' outburst. Jack just glared at her, and she glared back. Nobody spoke for a long while.

"Fine," Jack snarled, unslinging the MP5 from his shoulder and dropping it next to the pilot, who seemed to be looking at it in surprise. Then, Jack took the Nighthawk out of his pocket, and handed it calmly to the man, who, after a moment, carefully accepted it. Then, he turned towards the patio door. "I'm goin' out to look for Luke and Josh before they get hurt." Vert looked at the pilot, then at Jack.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked angrily.

"I just said, didn't I?" he snapped. "I said I'm fuckin' goin' out for the day to go and find those other two fuckin' morons and stop them from causin' problems with the Mobsters! Maybe if you'd stop thinkin' everythin' can be solved by talkin' to people, and started understandin' that this is what we do where we're from, then you'd have understood what I'm sayin'. Because believe me, if those gangsters threaten Josh, Luke, or even a _single_ innocent person - if they even shoo away a cat - then I'm goin' to kill them. And as much as you don't want to think that's what needs to be done, Lady Vert, it really, _really_ is. They're armed, violent criminals. Josh and Luke are just two guys against them. If I don't go find them, then the only way we'll see them again is in body bags in the river."

With that, Jack walked through the patio doors, and disappeared into the building. Vert sighed, and rubbed her forehead, dismissing the guards nearby with her free hand. "Goodness, that man sometimes..." she groaned. It was at that moment that Uni walked out of the building, cautiously eyeing the pilot as he was carefully escorted into the building whilst a soldier behind carried his weapons with an all too curious look in her eyes. The CPU candidate had a notepad gripped in front of her, and she shuffled over to Vert.

"Um...Lady Vert?" she said quietly. The goddess offered no response for a moment, before sighing and sitting back up.

"Yes, Uni?" The reply came with a forced smile. The younger girl looked quite worried.

"Where's Mr. Lovebun going?" Uni asked. Vert closed her eyes, and exhaled. Then, she looked out over the garden, and towards the city in the distance.

"He's...going out for the day."

Uni looked down, slightly dejectedly.

"O-Oh."

Vert placed a hand on Uni's shoulder, and smiled.

"Don't worry about it. Would you like to play some video games?"

Uni smiled.

"Uh...sure. Thanks."


	16. Bloodbath Croydon

The Challenger had been sat unattended for about three hours since it had pulled up outside the Downtown Disco. Naturally, Jack had managed to follow the lumbering machine all the way to the run-down nightclub in the scummier district of Leanbox, but it had taken him nearly the whole of his day just to make sure this was where Luke and Josh had travelled to.

It had to have been: Not only was there a black van down a side alley that looked markedly similar to that of the Mobsters' van on the robbery night, but Jack's two companions had entered the building three hours before, armed to the teeth. He was quite concerned. He had read up on Mobster activities in his free time, and as far as he could gather, they went around Leanbox and looted businesses, attacked locations of importance, and murdered anyone in their way.

So, Jack was sat on a rooftop over the street, looking down at the club. He couldn't see any of the white-suited men on the club's balcony or roof. Even if he did see them, what would he do? Shoot at them with one of his many unsilenced guns? So, for the umpteenth time, Jack swore to himself. "Shite..." he muttered. The notepad he had brought with him now had a page completely filled to the brim with small observations about the building's activities for the previous one hundred and eighty minutes. Not only that, but he couldn't even use it anyway: There wasn't enough light. He supposed he could have used his lighter, but then he risked burning the paper.

Instead, he opted to wait for five more minutes. Luke and Josh had been in there for too long. They liked it or not, Jack was going to go and get them out.

_**Five minutes later...**_

Hands in his pockets, Jack began to cross the road as the first signs of rain showed up in the skies above. The street lamps showed just how heavy the downpour was going to get, but Jack didn't particularly mind. He kept his steely gaze on the club's entrance, where a young woman stood, leaned against the wall. Just as he approached...

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there, pal," she said firmly. The woman was a fairly tall redhead with a hairband holding her short crimson hair back. Next to her was a guitar case, and her apparel seemed to be sports clothing. Jack cast a glance to her, as she checked her nails with a dull expression. "If your name's not on the list, you're not allowed in." _Pretty dodgy security uniforms. Looks like she just finished a track day._

Jack narrowed his eyes. "That so?" The bouncer nodded.

"Uh-huh. Guys inside won't let anyone else in, and they paid me to make sure nobody tries. Come back another night. Not too complicated, really." The woman stopped checking her nails when the sound of a pistol hammer being slowly cocked rang out in front of her, and she froze. Jack kept the Desert Eagle level with her forehead.

"Alright then, you call that complicated, then I'll put it _real_ fuckin' simple for you. You can either walk away from this evenin's events without a hole in your fore'ead," he began, keeping his one-handed aim steadily on her head but his gaze pointed towards the doors, "Or I can break you apart like I'm goin' to with these Mobsters." The woman blinked, not moving.

"...M-Mobsters?" she asked.

"Aye. Mobsters. Some of the ones you'd find on Death Row." Jack turned his head and looked down at the girl, who seemed visibly shocked at the word 'Mobsters', and offered a predatory grin as he pushed the barrel of his Desert Eagle against her forehead, causing her to visibly begin shaking and shrink back slightly. "If you're helpin' these bastards, then I'm goin' to assume you have a death wish as well." There was a pause, before the woman shook her head, looking determined.

"Are they really Mobsters?"

"Yeah, I did say that. You wanna walk away now?"

To his surprise, the girl shook her head. "I'm not walking away without bringing these guys to justice." Jack thought about this for a moment. _Perhaps it'd be good to have someone watching my back._ After a hesitation, he held his gun in a high-port position.

"Alright then..." he trailed off, watching as she went over to her guitar case and opened it. "You sure you wanna go through with this, though? These guys would kill Keanu Reeves' puppy if they had the chance. Don't think they'll avoid shootin' you, even if you're only carryin' a guitar." The girl smiled, hefting the massive greatsword that she had been concealing in the instrument case.

"I don't even know who Keyarnoo Weaves is!" she laughed. "So what're we doing here? Knocking them out and taking them to the police?" Jack tilted his head briefly, still clutching his massive silver handgun.

"If that's what you wanna do," he replied, "But I'm gonna be acin' these dick'eads if they fire a shot or take a swing." The woman looked worried, before looking more composed and nodding. Just as he was about to make the initial breach, there was a cough behind him. Quickly, he turned to face the new threat that had snuck up on hi-

"Oh, hi Cave," he greeted casually. The maid obviously was not so happy to see him: Her clothing was completely drenched, with her ribbons dripping with water, her skirt dripping with water, and her wet dress tightly hugging her body to reveal her _incredible_ curves. Jack swallowed slightly.

_oh fuck she's wearing a frilly black bra that's my weakness, oh shit, look at her face_

"Skip the formalities," Cave said flatly, glaring at him as she slowly advanced underneath the archway leading to the door. "I took you for someone who wouldn't simply partake in acts of violence without real planning, permission, and reasoning, Mr. Lonesome. And yet here you are, about to attack a nightclub full of gangsters." Jack considered this, and tilted his head. The redhead bouncer raised a brow inquisitively.

"Do you know this girl?" she asked. Jack nodded.

"I do: She's supposed to be keepin' me from performin' stuff like this." Cave was now directly in front of him, glaring at him. After a silence as the shorter woman stared up into his eyes, assessing his weakness, she spoke.

"Let's put this simply, Mr. Lonesome," she began, "I am here to look after you when problems arise. Nowhere in my contract does it specify I am to stop you from doing things such as this." Jack smiled.

"See, there we go, you're actually bein' fun."

"However, I do have a personal request for you in return for my protection services, considering that you intend to drag me into high intensity firefights."

"Aye...and that condition is?"

"Every time you do something as foolish as this, and I end up dragging you out of it, _you_ will be carrying out my tasks, chores, and requests for the day after. If you persist in doing stupid things, your punishment will increase in length." Jack blinked. "Thus, in this scenario, if I save your life from impending death, which will likely happen considering the concentration of violent criminals in this building, you will be cleaning my apartment, delivering some invitations for a lunch I am planning for my free time, and taking the place of my personal masseuse whilst she is on holiday." Jack stared at her.

"...are you _really_ tryin' to get me to give you a massage?" he asked flatly, lowering his gun slightly in confusion. Cave folded her arms, and smirked. The other sword girl watched the exchange in confusion, casting a glance to the door, then back at them.

"Perhaps. Does kneading the stress from my womanly back, shapely rear, and succulent chest not interest you?"

"Uh..." Jack felt his face going hot at the mental image of naked Cave. "...I-I can't answer that one..." he groaned, shaking his head. He hesitated, and cast a glance to the bouncer, who was idly rocking back and forth on her heels. Clearly, she was waiting to get a move on. Then he turned to Cave again, who was uncharacteristically smirking victoriously. "In fact, you know what, fuck it, sure, deal, whatever, punishment for you helpin' me, I get it. Listen, you want a chance for that massage, then you follow in after and keep an eye on me in case one of these dick'eads gets the jump on me." After another pause, Cave nodded.

"Very well," she replied, before stepping behind him and withdrawing a menacing looking pair of scissors from a disk. There was a skull on the handle: That was probably a good thing.

"Alright, then." Jack exhaled, and stepped towards the doors, taking up a position on the left side and leaning next to the wall, Deagle held ready. The bouncer did the same on the opposite side of the doorway, before looking at him rather confusedly. "Hey...what's your name?" she asked carefully.

"Just call me London."

"OK, Mr. Drumgun," she beamed, causing Jack to commit seppuku, "My name's Falcom!" He gave a nod to her.

"Alright, Falcom: You ever breached a buildin' before?" She shook her head. "It'll be like this: Once I get that door open and fire the first shot, you two rush in and get into cover. Anyone in a white suit tries to stop you, don't hold back. Gut the fucker for all I care. Got it?" Falcom nodded, and Jack smirked. "Good. Then let's get tactical, ladies."

Jack darted to the middle of the doorway, raised his Deagle and boot, before delivering a solid kick to the metal double-doors which buckled and swung straight open. Inside the darkened room, there was a man who was knocked right back by the doors suddenly impacting him, as well as a few gangsters sitting inside that were taken completely by surprise by Jack's breaching. Heavy bass rang through the walls, presumably from the dance floor in the next room over. With any luck, it'd conceal the loud boom of his Deagle.

The first Mobster was thrown backwards with a loud thud as the door smashed into him, Jack had his aim set straight on his forehead, firing off a shot right away and snapping the man's head back with enough force that he began to backflip. A split second later, the chamber of the Deagle was closed, and Jack could acquire his new target. He pointed the gun at one of the gangsters who was still in the process of turning around in his seat and pulling a gun, then fired. Once more, the heavy bullet smacked into his face, causing him to wince as the shot hit the side of his neck, failed to penetrate, then caused him to instantly pass out, slumping out of his chair and onto the floor.

By now, the first gangster had hit the floor, and Jack had swept into the room, crouching immediately upon hearing the _clink_ of a knife being drawn. The blade in question swept mere centimeters over his head with a white sleeve pushing it along. Jack threw his Deagle into the air as fast and high as he could, moving both of his now empty palms to grab the man's right bicep and forearm. His thumb felt the man's elbow, and it was pointing towards the ground. Good.

Jack immediately yanked the arm down and used the top of his head as a solid point with which to crack the man's elbow onto. Instantly, there came a sickening snap as the mobster's arm bent the wrong way and a bone, now dislocated, ripped through his skin and began rapidly forming a crimson patch onto his sleeve. As the man screamed, Jack used a little bit more force to flip the man over his head, sending him crashing down onto a wooden table next to him and reverting it to splinters.

As he stood, Jack heard the sound of a rifle charging handle being pulled. Fuck. That was the sound of an AK being readied. As quickly as he could, he caught the Deagle as it dropped back down to the ground and dived straight to his right behind the nearby cloakroom counter as a hail of Russian yelling with the loud roar of Soviet-era rifle fire rang out around the room. Bullets cracked against the wood of the counter, but in slower bursts than he had expected. Obviously, they were being careful not to bring the heat by letting the neighbours hear too many gunshots.

After a brief exhale, Jack got into a low crouch behind the counter, and switched out his Deagle for his shotgun, slipping in a Buckshot shell and racking the pump. A green flechette round dropped to the floor after being ejected from the chamber, and that gave him an idea. He picked it up, with his left hand, and held it ready. Then, he waited for the gunfire to slow.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, the bullets stopped, and he heard a set of footsteps beginning to approach the counter, slowly but surely. Once he could hear that the gangster was just about to turn the corner and face him, Jack set his plan into action.

He flicked the green shotgun shell straight over the desk, prompting a shocked gasp from the Mobster. The footsteps halted, and the only sound was the shell hitting the floor.

Now, Jack had to hope the Mobster was focusing on the shell and wondering what it was.

Then the footsteps began to move away from the desk.

Perfect.

Jack silently stood up, levelled his shotgun right at the gangster's back, and let loose with a flurry of Buckshot. The bald man yelled out in pain and surprise, staggering forward and moving his left hand from the AK's foregrip to clutch at his spine. In that brief moment, Jack vaulted the low counter, flipped his gun so he could use it like a club, and delivered a solid, two-handed swing to the back of the gangster's head. There came no response outside of the man's groan, and the sound of him crumpling to the floor.

The gun dropped to the floor as well.

Jack picked it up, and examined it, eyeing the rifle. It had been barely modified; Practically a mint condition AKM, with only a few scratches here and there.

"Ohhh..." he murmured, pausing and looking the gun over. Then he nodded firmly, and stored it in his disk. "This is mine now."

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him, and he swept his shotgun around, racking the pump as he went so he could face the threat.

It was Cave and Falcom.

Jack lowered his gun, and raised a brow. "Glad to see you contributed, girls," he said snarkily, standing up straight. "Where were you?"

"Outside," Falcom replied, "Waiting for the gunfire to stop." Jack frowned.

"Why?" Cave shot him a deadpan look.

"You may be equipped with centuries-outdated projectile weapons and grade two-A ballistic protection, but we certainly are not. We were simply being careful." Jack shrugged.

"Fair enough. Then I'd suggest you stand next to doors and keep an eye out for anyone tryin' to sneak up behind." Without further argument, he turned, and examined the room. Around the place, there lay four white-suited gangsters: Three were unconscious, and the one who had his arm broken was lying on the remains of a table, groaning and crying. The place was also a dump: In one area of the room, the guy who Jack had shot the in the neck had dragged his table and chair onto the floor with him, lying in a pile of bullet casings that were undoubtedly from the AK. The table had been turned onto its side, the smashed glass in front of it suggesting that they didn't finish their drinks before Jack kicked their asses.

The man who had been hit by the door was in no better shape: His nose was likely broken, and he was sporting a large red mark where Jack had shot him in the face. Jack frowned, and put his shotgun away, crouching down to assess the man's injuries. He gripped the lapels of the injured gang member as if interrogating him, tilting the blonde's head side to side to check what was done. Cave walked up next to him. "What's wrong?" she asked. Jack squinted slightly, poking the area where his bullet impacted.

"Mostly just confused about the ballistics, 's all," he replied, scratching his stubbled beard. "I shot this bastard with a forty-four Magnum round. I remember my Dirty Harry quotes rightly, and I'd like to think I do, forty-four Magnum is able to blow your head clean off." He cast a glance up to Cave. "This guy's head is clearly not blown clean off." Cave kept her usual flat expression.

"Well, he is level eighty nine," she said smartly. "Perhaps your bullets aren't enough to cause significant injuries to such levels of person." Jack shrugged, considering it.

"Yeah, that must be it," he sighed, pulling his Deagle out again and standing up, before turning to the bar counter and hopping it.

"What are you looking for?" Cave asked again, approaching the counter alongside Falcom, both women looking over the bar to see what their larger male companion was doing. Jack was perusing the drawers beneath the counter.

"Juuust lookin' for a way to hold these wankers down for when we get the police here," he said casually. He paused, reached further into a cubby-hole, and grinned, withdrawing a 200-pack of extra length cable ties. After a moment of fiddling, he took out eight of them, and handed them to Cave and Falcom, who both accepted them confusedly as Jack stood. He gestured to the Mobsters. "Wrap one around their ankles, and one around their wrists. Bind their hands and feet together so they can't leg it whilst our backs are turned. With any luck, they'll all still be here when the feds show up." The two redheads nodded after a moment, before running over to the thugs to tie their arms and legs together.

After she'd arrested the first Mobster she went to, Cave hesitated at the sight of the man whose arm was, quite definitely, broken. Cautiously, ignoring his snivelling, she bound his ankles together, then looked at his wrists. She couldn't exactly tie them together without causing him serious pain. She looked at her remaining cable tie. Then she looked at a nearby radiator. Then she cable-tied his non-broken arm to the radiator piping, and proudly walked away. Jack, by then, had hopped the counter again, and was reconvening with Falcom. The taller man flicked his eyes towards Cave. "You're not bindin' his wrists?" he asked, putting his hands in his pockets. Cave shook her head.

"I was concerned I might cause him significant damage by moving his broken arm," she replied, hands behind her back. "Thus, I considered that he would get no use out of his broken arm, and bound his wrist to a solid steel pipe." Jack just shrugged.

"Fair enough." He looked at Falcom. "How about you, you got your two down OK?" She smiled.

"Out like lights."

"Perfect. So for the next bit, we have two choices." Jack began, gesturing to the staircase on the other side of the room. "First option, we head upstairs towards the dance floor, where undoubtedly there'll be a ton of gangsters." Falcom squinted.

"That doesn't sound like fun," she noted.

"Alternatively, we go that way," Jack continued, gesturing to a corridor that was set to the right of the bar. "I'm gonna make a guess that it leads to the upstairs private rooms. Closer quarters. Probably gonna have less gang members, too, and it'd likely lead around as a good flanking method for the dance floor." Falcom nodded, placing her sword on her shoulder and left hand in her pocket.

"Yeah, you're right," she interjected. "Upstairs, there's the kitchens, manager's office, and the six private dance rooms. Also leads to the DJ booth on the other side of the dance floor, so you can use that as a vantage point."

"Private dance as in personal disco?" Cave asked. Jack waved his hand dismissively.

"Nah, I think she means small disco floor," he replied. Falcom shook her head, smiling and scratching the back of her hair.

"Uh...no, they're...not those kind of private dances." Jack considered this. Cave considered this.

"You mean like lap dances and strippers?" Jack asked. Falcom chuckled.

"Yeah...you got there in the end, I guess." Jack, however, folded his arms.

"Why's a nightclub got private dance rooms?" The two redheads cast confused glances at him, and paused. "What?" Finally, Cave grabbed his biceps, forcefully turning his body to look down at her.

"This is a strip club, Mr. Glovebox," she said calmly and clearly. "I had first assumed you has come here to indulge in your strange fantasies, but obviously I was wrong." Jack stared at her in surprise, then smirked.

"Well, if this is a strip club, then I think I've already indulged in some of those 'strange fantasies' you said I've got," he chuckled, brushing her grip off. "For instance, I've severely injured four Soviet gangsters in a nightclub, and I'm about to partake in a hostile takeover using an AK rifle."

Cave raised a brow at the suggestion that this was his fantasy, but opted to question something else. "It was never specified that you had an 'Ay Kay'," she noted. "It's been confirmed that you have a 'portable David Cameron removal device'-"

"Double-barrelled shotgun." Jack corrected, scratching his stubble.

"-a 'pump-action shit slapper'-"

"Mossberg 500 tactical shotgun."

"-the 'handheld fuck-you device'-"

"IMI Desert Eagle forty-four Magnum handgun."

"-the 'world's best Vietnam simulator'-"

"Dragon's Breath shells. Those don't count."

"-two 'brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrts'-"

"Huh? Oh, the Skorpions. I still have those, I think. Have I even used them?"

"-and your two knives, plus your extendable black stick."

"It's a baton," Jack said firmly. "A stick falls from trees. A baton is used to beat people senseless after you've dropkicked 'em to the ground when they were five meters away from their escape van."

"You still do not have the 'Ay Kay' you mentioned," Cave interrupted him, folding her arms. "If it is mission critical information, then I suggest you explain." Jack sighed, and gestured to the doorway leading up to the manager's offices.

"Then I'll explain on the go."

_**The next floor up, five minutes and thirty seven seconds later...**_

"...designed it in such a way that the Automat Kalashnikov family of rifles is difficult, if not impossible to jam or break," Jack explained. He leaned back to avoid a golf club being swiped down at him, bringing his right knee up hard into his opponent's right ribcage and causing a satisfying crack. The man staggered back slightly, dropping his weapon and turning his head towards the source of the pain. Jack took advantage of this, flicking the machine-gun in his hands so that the bottom of the solid wood stock bashed straight into the Mobster's head, with an almost sickening splatter of blood jetting from a few orifices of his face and sending him straight backwards, screeching Russian obscenities.

His stumbling was cut short as Cave extended a leg, tripping him over and through a glass side table with a loud smash. The moment he'd hit the floor, Cave was ready, stepping to the side and delivering a kick to the side of his face. After a loud grunt, the man lay still in a pile of glass, groaning and bleeding onto his white suit jacket. The next room over, a loud commotion could be heard amongst the pounding bass from the dance floor. Jack lowered his AK, and looked to Cave.

"You want me to keep explainin' why this gun's fuckin' _great_? Or was me bashin' his fuckin' teeth down his throat enough?" he asked, smirking. The woman gave a deadpan look.

"The information will not affect me in any way, shape, or form," Cave sighed, shaking her right foot slightly to alleviate a throb that had arisen from kicking the gangster in the teeth. "If anything, it only makes this situation more ludicrous."

"How's it ludicrous?" Jack demanded. "This is crime-fightin'!"

"_Vigilantism_ is the correct word," she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him. "Vigilantism, if not properly supported by the basilicom, Lady Green Heart, or a member of the RRoD, is theoretically illegal."

"Good thing you're a member of the RRoD, then," whistled her gun-toting companion. She groaned, and questioned why she'd leapt at the chance to look after Mr. Glovebox. Between the two as they stood in a room with a stripper pole on a stage and an unconscious gangster, there was silence. They hadn't exactly _planned_ to end up in such a room, but it was part of the plan to surround the main dance floor, where they'd seen a lot of gangsters standing around from the manager's office upstairs. The next room over, there was the sound of men screaming, things being smashed, and a sword being swung around quite audibly. "'sides, Falcom sounds like she's doin' alright, think we should help?"

Gunshots rang out, and Falcom yelped loudly.

"Fuck, let's go," Jack said quickly. Cave nodded, and Jack sprinted over to the door into the next area, introducing his right foot to the lock and sending the wooden door flying off its hinges. The gunfire suddenly roared into a much louder existence, as well as the Russian yelling become much more clear.

Marching into the DJ's booth, he racked the bolt on his new AK (_which he had practically fallen in love with at this point_) and scanned the room. Either side of the booth, there was a bar counter, behind which there was situated about six or seven mobsters either side. All of them had their guns trained on a single plant pot that was surrounded by about thirteen injured gangsters, all in varying states of damage.

Presumably, behind that plant holder was Falcom, curled up in a ball and shaking. And Jack wouldn't be having that, because that would be sad.

He turned, and looked back at Cave. "Vault behind the counter on the right and drop 'em," he ordered. "I got the dick'eads on the left." Illuminated by the blue lights in the DJ booth, Cave nodded, and moved up next to the control panel, crouching behind the wall similar to how Jack was doing opposite her.

There was a hesitation. Jack grinned. "I love this fuckin' song," he said calmly, gesturing to the iPod that was connected to the mixing desk. "Solid tune. Fits what we're doin'." Cave was about to reply with a witty insult, but stopped. That was a fair point: The music was quite good.

"Ready?" she asked, stooping low and drawing her scissors once more.

Jack nodded, and got into a similar crouch, raising his AK. "Ready."

"Let's go."

Cave turned to vault her low wall, and Jack stood and brought his AK to bear on the gangsters, who were all in a line behind the counter. Without any of them noticing him until it was too late, he squeezed the trigger and began to unload dozens of seven-six-two rounds into the group of thugs, catching them all off guard. Each of them fell, one after the other, in a pile of broken glass, ruined suits, and cheap booze. However, the thug furthest from Jack's hailstorm of lead managed to use his nearby man as a meatshield, and one-handedly swung his M249 to face the booth, before beginning to shoot from the hip, Jack's shots impacting the man in front and swiftly knocking him unconscious. As the bullets snapped and pinged around him, Jack was forced to get back behind cover.

On the other side of the booth, Cave kept low with her scissors drawn, ducking beneath an initial shot from a thug's pistol and sweeping at his legs with her sword. He yelled in pain as his feet came out from under him, sending him tumbling jaw-first onto the marble worktop with a loud smash of bone. Cave slid underneath him as he fell, using her momentum to cut upwards at the second white-suited man, knocking the half-opened butterfly knife from his hand. She followed this up by bringing her other leg up after her strike, kicking him straight in the face and sending him backwards into his fellow man.

In the brief moment of respite, Cave decided that she could spare no expense against the remaining four men: Standing firm, she extended her right arm, and summoned the five mechanical focusing devices around her wrist. Then, she cleared her mind, and let a slow expanding ball of crackling green energy appear in her hand. Her opponents couldn't think of a suitable reaction. However, one did think of a reaction.

He wiped his mouth clear of his wounded friend's blood, and raised his shotgun to aim at Cave's face.

Cave's blood went cold.

She could barely utter a weak "No..." before a hail of pellets smashed into her head, throwing her back onto the first thug and sending her scissors flying. The five drones dispersed. She couldn't hear clearly or see straight as she looked to the ceiling, with the bass being muffled and the disco lights blurring into an unrecognisable mess above her. She couldn't move.

She could feel her breathing speed up, then a sharp pain in her ribcage as someone kicked her. Cave let out a loud scream of pain, but it didn't stop the next set of kicks that attacked her ribs again, her stomach, her face and back, unrelenting in their beating as six mobsters all quickly gathered around to beat her into submission.

She had never experienced anything this painful, and she didn't know if it was going to stop. She continued screaming, hoping that Jack would hear.

And hear he did.

Through her blurred vision, the gangster who was raising his boot above her head to finish her off was suddenly pulled to the side, before a loud bang rang out and he jolted the other way to the ground. The kicking stopped, and a black and green blur marched over her, grabbing another thug and slamming a fist into his face with a muffled thud. He kept his hand there for a moment, before sharply pulling it away and kicking the gangster backwards. There was a purple flash in his hand, and a large grey shape appeared. Jack's muffled voice said something, before he began to move away from Cave and swipe violently at a nearby mobster. The man had no time to react: The grey shape hit his shoulder for a moment, held in place, before having it suddenly pulled free and kicked away. A moment later, there was another loud boom, and Jack staggered back. In response to the shotgun blast, he raised his right hand, and began firing a gun.

Again. And again. And again.

He wasn't stopping.

A few moments later, which had melded together in Cave's stunned mind, the gunfire stopped, and Jack ran straight over to her. His image was rather clear now, but the edges of her eyes were blurry. Goodness, she'd been crying. After a moment, she felt herself being moved to the wall behind the counter and sat up by Jack, who began to assess her face. "Fuckin' hell, Cave, speak to me!" he yelled. The woman groaned, and looked at him.

"I-I'm..." she stuttered. "I-I'm fi-fine..." Jack let out a sigh of relief, and leaned back slightly.

"Jesus fuck..." he whistled. "Don't scare me like that, alright?" Cave stared at him in a daze.

"...y-yes...sorry..." There was a quiet moment between the two. Over the room, the machine-gun thug yelled out in pain as Falcom let out a fearsome cry of rage, swinging her sword into his legs and pommel-smashing him in the face. Jack began going through his bag, and looked back at Cave.

"You're not bleedin'," he said, "But as far as I can see, you might have an _'orrible_ concussion." Cave nodded, and sniffed. Jack sighed. "Fuckin' hell, don't cry," he muttered, rubbing his eyes, "Otherwise I'll end up cryin'. Anyway, it's over. I dealt with those fuckin' cunts." A brief gesture over to the pile of bodies nearby indicated that he hadn't just knocked them out.

The one she thought he'd knocked out with a pistol shot to the head had a massive, ragged hole through the side of his skull, leaking bits of brain onto the floor. Another who she had seen being punched, sported a thick red wound down the center of his face that dribbled blood and gore over his pristine white blazer. It went on like that.

All six of the men lay dead in extremely gruesome ways.

She held back vomit.

Was she going to cry?

She had a reason to, now.


	17. Bloody Breakdown

After an hour, the police had shown up in full force to secure the scene. For the whole day, cars filled the side street as the sun rose and fell, with paramedics tending to Josh's, Luke's, and the other hostages' wounds. The dozens of female (duh) police officers wandered about inside and outside the club, dragging out the Mobsters for arrest, taking photos, and repossessing every gun and illegal object that they could find.

The haul was impressive, and showed the Mobsters' tastes didn't really change much from what Jack assumed was the years they were all incarcerated. A few .44 revolvers, some .357 revolvers, two M249s, an original M60, a few Soviet machine guns, countless butterfly and bowie knives, brass knuckles, machetes, katanas, M16s and M4s were all taken into inventory by the police. It took two of the small women to carry the M60 to the back of a van, and even the van seemed to sink under its weight when it was added to the literal pile of guns and sharp objects.

Well...all the ones that were recovered.

Jack had deemed it necessary to take a few things that caught his eye: A pair of Mateba revolvers, in used condition, with one for him and one for anyone else who needed one; a .44 revolver in case he lost his Desert Eagle; an RPD machine gun due to its good accuracy over a long range and its built-in bipod; a pair of brass knuckles; and a trench knife, the last of which he was sharpening with his bayonet as he sat with a paramedic.

The rest of the stuff was things he could probably barter with any other people from Earth, hopefully as a way of gaining their trust and co-operation: Cigarettes, vodka and whiskey flasks, lighters and pens, pins and badges, and a few bits of clothing that he'd scavenged.

The paramedic with him was stitching up the side of his face, where one of the backroom thugs that was looking after their significantly high number of hostages managed to get a good few hits onto Jack's face with a pair of brass knuckles. He probably had a concussion because of it, let alone cuts and bruises. A glance to a nearby reflective surface told him that he had only suffered a few impact marks here and there, but the cuts were open, and that meant the paramedic had to throw alcohol on his face and stab him repeatedly with a sewing needle.

He winced as the needle scraped the side of his skull. "Fuck..." he muttered, closing his eyes so that the feeling would subside. The golden lighting illuminated the whole street fairly well in the late evening glow, meaning that the scene was reminiscent of the ending of every eighties action movie ever where the protagonist sits in an ambulance getting his injuries stitched shut. Nevertheless, Jack didn't like it. Fucking needles.

Once he was finished, he'd be heading back to the basilicom so he could get yelled at for leaving and causing a scene in the city.

He just didn't think Lady Vert would understand how lucky Luke and Josh were that he showed up. When he arrived, the two were ready to be doused in petrol, along with a bunch of the dancing girls that had been held hostage at the club.

And those Mobsters...he'd done the right thing. He had to do it. Otherwise, they would have killed Cave. They were scum anyway.

Yeah.

He...he was in the right.

Right?

_**That night, after vigorous questioning and stitches...**_

"And there's the man of the hour," came the familiar, almost expected voice of Chika. Jack sighed, and turned to face her as she approached and sat down at the table they usually sat at on those evenings. "How's it feel to be the hero again?" Jack shrugged, and rubbed his forehead.

"Like shit, really," he groaned. "Killed six people today. _Six_. Half a dozen dead in a few seconds." Chika smirked, leaning onto the table.

"Really? Wow. You're improving."

"That's not to say I'm proud of what I did."

"Why not?"

Jack stared at her. "What do you mean, '_Why not_'? I don't know if you heard me right, but I said I _**killed**_ _SIX FUCKIN' PEOPLE._" Chika shrugged, a bored expression now on her face.

"Yeah. So?"

"That's six people. I've never killed anyone before, let alone a half dozen in a few seconds."

"And you think I haven't had to get dirty to get where I am?" the Oracle retorted. "In politics, you either die as someone that the people look up to, or live long enough to see yourself become a part of what you wanted to bring down. And contrary to what you might expect, nobody in Gamindustri's political system hasn't helped someone else become a national icon at their funeral." Jack blinked.

"You've fuckin' murdered people before? Holy fuck, I knew there was summat off about you!" He was about to stand up and leave, when Chika suddenly grabbed his wrist, then stood and grabbed his face.

"Look at me, Mr. Glovebox," she ordered. Jack did so, and realized that the constant frown wasn't just her thinking of anything. It was because she didn't like what she'd done in the past. "Look at me, and try to tell me that you think I stood a chance as a politician without being treated as mere eye-candy by others! I did what I _had to_ so that I could be where I am now. And where am I now?"

"Right and left hands of the government, you say this all the bloody time," Jack snapped, finally pulling his hand free and remaining standing over the woman in front of him that now looked quite shocked at the sudden hostility. "And how the fuck is this helpin' me? I've killed six people. I don't have a political career. I don't have a _career_. And yet you think tellin' me all this is gonna make a fuckin' difference? You've not gone out and fuckin' shot someone through the head, have you? You haven't punched a knife through someone's face, you haven't cracked someone's fuckin' head open on a marble surface! You poisonin' people and hirin' snipers doesn't even involve you directly, you just sit and watch." Jack gritted his teeth, and glared at Chika. "This isn't some sort of fuckin' joke for me. I have to _live_ with the knowledge that I smashed someone's head open with a worktop, and that I blew someone's brains out at point blank, and that I stabbed someone through the head, and that I gunned down three more people. You don't, because you don't do _anything_ like that yourself." Feebly, Chika raised a hand.

"B-But...Mr. Glo-"

"It's _**LONDON!**_" Jack roared as he slammed his fist on the table, cracking the glass slightly and prompting Chika to quickly recoil her hand. She could feel tears springing to her eyes slightly. That hadn't happened in a while. "How many times to I have to tell all of you fuckin' _degenerates_ that it's pronounced London?! Not Glovebox, not Lunnydunny, not Loondumb, not fucking Lovebun! It's London! _London!_ I have a bloody name! It's not interchangeable! How'd you like it if I started calling you Bleacher? Or Cunta? Not good, is it? I'm a man, not just some fuckin' tool for you and the CPUs to use as you fuckin'-well see fit, I'm not some babysitter, I'm not a fuckin' public figure! I'm the guy you send to destroy a field of Dogoos! I'm the guy you send to kill a Dragon! I'm the guy that can shoot down a fuckin' jet with a boxlock shotgun! And yet the way you lot order me around, I'm just...just..._just..._" Jack clenched his fists, closing his eyes and trembling slightly as he struggled to find the words he wanted.

Finally, after a moment of silence, Jack dropped to his knees, staring at the patio floor. Chika blinked with shock, watching him from her seat. Not even she had a comeback, or witty response. She was probably the first person to ever see Mr. Glovebox having a breakdown. Normally, watching breakdowns was hilarious, but this one...one of her best friends' breakdowns...it wasn't funny.

In fact, she dared say she even felt bad for him.

And amidst the silence, there came a quiet mutter. "..._I'm_..._I'm just a weapon._" Neither spoke after this. Chika sat leaned forward on her chair, silently watching him, and Jack was knelt down in the middle of the patio, breathing heavily and staring at the ground with his arms limp. She couldn't see his face, even under the bright moon, but she was certain it was contorted in some expression of pure, unfiltered rage...

...was he _crying_?

Cautiously, the Oracle stood and slowly approached her hulking gunman friend. Even kneeling to half his height, his face still reached her chest, so she would need to crouch slightly if she ended up needing to calm him down with hugs. Once she was within two meters of him, she could certainly see it: He was crying. The paving tile in front of him had wet drops on it. He was quietly sobbing.

Mr. Glovebox was _crying_.

A good portion of her wanted to take photos to prove to everyone that he was a softy, and then keep the pictures for blackmail, but then she reconsidered. Mr. Glovebox was the closest thing she had to a best friend whenever Cave wasn't around. Unlike any of her other 'friends', he spoke to her like they were people talking, not having a corporate meeting. He was _real_. Not just talking for the sake of a raise in stature or getting better funding.

He spoke to her as a friend.

And what did friends do for each other?

Chika sighed, and crouched down, before lifting his right arm and slipping herself under it. Then, she wrapped her own arms around his torso, sat down on his right knee, and placed the left side of her head onto his shoulder, gently patting him on the back. "_You're OK, big guy, just let it all out..._" she whispered as calmingly as she could. Her shoulder was wet. Why did the area under his left arm smell like blood? "_You mean way more to us than just a weapon...you're my best friend, Uni adores you, and Lady Vert says you're one of the most charming gentlemen she's ever wanted to see without a shirt on..._"

Shit, did she really just say that? Fuck, roll with it.

"_But...if you were just a weapon, you're the nicest weapon I've ever met...I'd say that counts for something, right?_" She rubbed his back, and leaned out slightly to look him in the eyes. In the moon's light, she could see they were reddened, and damp. Holy hell, he'd _really_ let something out. Maybe that's why the tears felt like boiling hot coffee. All his bottled frustrations formed thermal energy and nearly cooked her skin, or something. She didn't know.

Giving a reassuring smile, she looked Jack in the eyes. "You feel better?" she asked. After sighing, Jack finally spoke.

"...yeah." Suddenly, he smiled, and put his own arms around the smaller woman, who nearly yelped in surprise. "Thanks, Chika. Dunno where I'd be without you."

Chika grinned as she wrapped her arms around him again.

_Just as planned._

_**The next morning...**_

Jack walked into the breakfast room, no longer with the miserable trudge he had been doing the day before. Everyone else stopped eating, and looked at him as he entered. Vert, Uni, and Chika gave honest smiles. "Good morning, Mr. Glo..." She stopped herself. "...Lo...Lunn...Dunn...?" she beamed. How was it that hard to pronounce? She was questioning that herself, now. Jack smiled.

"That's the one," he grinned. "Mornin', ladies." Before he sat down, Luke coughed.

"_Crybaby._"

Jack clenched his fists, marched around the table, and before anyone could say anything, he gripped the back of his friend's head and smashed Luke's face into the Boxwood table hard enough that the wood splintered with an audible crash. Josh remained slightly braced up, since he'd expected something like that, and everyone else just displayed their irritation at Luke's comment in subtle ways. Jack dusted his hands off after a moment, and walked back to his seat.

"Fuckin' buck-teethed twat," he grunted, pulling his chair out and setting himself down in an eerily calm way. Luke, meanwhile, sat there groaning loudly, holding his face in his hands and with some blood dripping from it.

"You fuckigg arsehole!" he whined, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I thikk you broke by dose!" Jack just shrugged, and pulled his chair in.

"It's what you get, so I suggest shuttin' the fuck up, next time." As he leaned forward to grab the water jug, he paused.

Then, he noticed the pilot from two days before, calmly sat at the seat beside him, staring at him almost blankly through the polarized dirt-bike style flight helmet. The table then fell silent.

Finally, Vert cleared her throat. "Jack, this is...this is Chaz." She was definitely having to pick her words carefully. "He's...he's that pilot. He says he's trying to fight the criminals, too. And...and he likes planes." Jack sniffed, sitting back with his arms folded and still looking at 'Chaz' with caution.

"I figured that last part," he said, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes. "He's a bloody airman. He has to like planes. Just like how I enjoy weapons." There was silence, and Chaz cleared his throat through the radio filter on his helmet.

The pilot swallowed. "Uh...we...we, uh, got off on the wron-"

"What's your opinion on In?" Jack asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes. Uni perked up from eating her breakfast, confused as to why her name was mentioned.

"Me?" she inquired, raising a brow and looking up at Jack. "Why me?"

Chaz looked at Uni, then back at Jack. Since his eyes weren't visible, the only thing people could guess his eye movements by was the subtle shifting of his head. He then looked back at the gunman next to him, who he was actually considerably taller than. "She's good, I guess. Not got a problem with her."

Jack extended a hand.

"Then it's good to meet you, and sorry for blowin' your kneecap open."

Everyone else watched the exchange in utter confusion as Jack and Chaz shook hands like they'd known each other for their whole lives.

Uni looked at herself in the reflection of a spoon.

Was she _really_ that significant in how Jack decided things?


	18. Ker-Blast

At roughly lunchtime, Jack's phone buzzed in his pocket whilst he was sat with Uni on the Basilicom patio, assessing his loot from the day before. Uni looked at it in confusion, and so did he. After a pause, he put down the RPD drum magazine, and then slowly withdrew it from his pocket. Naturally, it was bright pink. He didn't know why. Frankly, he didn't care. He had two big questions, however. Raising a brow, he looked at Uni. "First off, When did I get a phone," he began, "And second, how the hell did Lady Noire get my soddin' number?"

Uni just looked at it, then stuck her lower lip out and shook her head in confusion. "I don't know," she responded with a shrug. "Plot convenience?" Jack rubbed his forehead, looking at the rather miserable photo of Noire on the screen. Then, sighing at the fact he wouldn't ever understand what the hell everyone was going on about with 'plot', he clicked the button, and stuck it to his ear. The device was dwarfed by his considerably large head.

"Af'ernoon, London speakin'," he said calmly. The response was the angry, slightly high-pitched voice he'd come to get annoyed by.

"_Where's my sister?_" Noire demanded. Jack leaned back on his chair.

"With me," he said coolly. "Why, 's there summat wrong?"

"_You kidnapped my sister, of course there's something wrong!_"

Jack sat forward, and raised a finger, quite angry indeed. "Ah, AH! Not kidnappin', she got on the boat herself! Wouldn't have brought her along if I'd have known I couldn't find anywhere for her to stay. No good gettin' yourself all pissed over summat you don't need to worry abou-"

"_That's right! __**You're**__ the one looking after her! That's what I'm worried about!_"

"Certainly doin' a better job than you," Jack whistled, eyeing his hands over. They were fucked, as usual. Same texture as industrial sandpaper. He wondered how he used the phone when his hands seemed like they'd grind it into fine powder upon using it. "Who's the one who's actually got Uni with 'em, might I ask?"

"_You're the one who kidnapped her!_"

"Didn't kidnap shit. She came along. Said you'd probably yell at her over the phone about it, or summat."

"_Would you just let me speak to her, you gun-waving idiot?!_" Jack raised a brow, and looked at Uni. His shorter companion looked back with a calm expression and the .44 revolver in her hands. It looked more like a rifle in her arms. She shook her head slowly.

"Uh, you...can't." Jack said finally. There was silence.

"_...what do you mean, 'I can't', she's my sister! Let me talk to her!_"

"You can't speak to her, she's...uh..." Quickly, he glanced around the area to find an excuse. Couldn't use Uni...couldn't use guns...couldn't say it was the good ol' days after 9/11 or that he was fuckin' invincible...

Just then, Vert walked onto the patio with a cup of tea and saucer, approaching Uni and Jack's table. Then, he had an idea. "Can't talk, need to go save Josh from being suffocated by Lady Vert's chest." Noire spat out incoherent, angry ramblings, mostly sounding like _'Who the fuck is Josh, and why are you taking Uni to fucking Leanbox?!'_, but Jack had hung up, and thrown the phone down the length of the garden by the time Lady Vert reached the table. "Af'ernoon, Lady Vert," he greeted calmly. Uni offered a small wave, too. Vert smiled, and gave an appreciative nod.

"Good afternoon, you two," she said warmly, glancing down at the array of firearms on the table. "I see you've got quite the display out. Is there somewhere for me to sit, or are you busy?" Jack immediately stood, and gestured to his chair.

"'ave that," he replied smoothly, before making his way over to another table to steal a chair from there. "Got one here, take mine." Vert hesitated, then smiled as she sat down.

"Thank you. The perfect gentleman, as always."

Uni stifled a laugh at the comment. Jack sat down beside her, so she stopped quite quickly, however the ghost of a smirk remained on her face. "Eh, it's nothin'," Jack whistled, sitting on the chair and prompting it to scream its protests. "Not exactly gonna let my employer stand, am I?" Vert raised a brow, sipping her tea.

"I wouldn't class myself as your 'employer', Mr. Glo..." She stopped herself. "..._Lunndone._" Jack rolled his eyes.

"I don't know how, but I'm getting the feeling you spelled the pronunciation wrong," he groaned. Vert offered a genuine smile.

"Sorry. It's a difficult word to say."

"No it isn't, discussion over. Anyway, how can we help you, Lady Vert?" The goddess placed her cup and saucer down delicately next to the Desert Eagle placed on the table, before looking Jack in the face.

"I...heard about your discussion with Chika." Jack groaned, before throwing his arms wide.

"_**Ohhh, Jesus, it's this shit again,**_" he said quite loudly.

"No, Mr. Glovebox, I'm not here to lecture you," Vert said quickly, extending her arms. "I'm simply here to check that you're really..._OK._ OK?" After a moment where nobody at the table spoke, Jack rubbed his face, then sat forward, leaning on the table.

"Pretty much over it," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Couldn't sleep at all last night, though. Still feel like I did summat bad."

"You did _fine_," Vert said in as reassuring a manner as she could muster. She was almost tempted to place her hands on his in an attempt to comfort him, but decided against it for fear of her own safety. "Cave is safe in hospital. I dread to think where she'd be if you hadn't stepped in."

"In a bag at the bottom of the river, I get it," Jack replied, "But I still don't think I should have killed 'em."

"As much as it pains me to condone it, it's a better solution than incarcerating them. They break out every other day, and it's always done the same way each time." Jack raised his head off the table.

"Armoured pick-up down a busy street at their court hearin's?" Vert hesitated, then slowly nodded.

"Yes, but that's not all-"

"Armed raid against the SMD headquarters to find out who ratted them out?" Vert looked slightly worried. Uni just looked between the two, but didn't know what they were discussing. She decided she was going to play with one of the two Mateba revolvers, because she liked the bit where the cylinder flicked all the way up above the frame. Nevertheless, Vert looked worried. That's important.

"That's oddly specific-"

"The guys breakin' them out are practically demi-gods that can shout each other up, dodge bullets, and wear dumb facemasks?"

"Now you're just being oddly specific."

"The guy being broken out always has an accent like mine in spite of being a Russian criminal?"

"Stop it, you're creeping me out with your psychic powers."

"Was the word 'wanker' used a lo-?"

"Now you're just remembering what you read in a magazine," another voice announced. The three people present at the table turned to see Chika approaching them. She she came near, she picked up a chair, and then casually placed it down right next to Jack, before leaning onto his shoulder and placing her arms around his left arm in a strange cuddle. Jack had no idea if he was supposed to particularly care. "Good afternoon, you two, and my dearest Vert."

"**Af'ernoon**," Jack and Uni said simultaneously, both looking at their guns and not looking towards Chika. Neither of them responded to the fact they had become rather in sync over the days before, and so Vert decided to just drop the thought. Chika simply opted to select a new topic of conversation.

"So, your new pilot...'friend'..." she began, withdrawing a glass of wine from nowhere and sipping it in a rather lady-like manner. "Was that his only plane that you shot down?" Jack shrugged his right shoulder so that Chika could lean on his left.

"Probably. You'd have to ask him about his toy collection." Nonchalantly, Jack picked up the other Mateba from the table, before aiming it dead ahead down the garden. "Me? I'm more partial to a bit of up close arsekickin'."

"Really?" Chika grinned. "Because when i interviewed that 'Falcom' girl that helped you with the club raid, you got into several drawn out fistfights with Mobsters that looked different than the others." She paused, then checked her nails, giggling lightly. "Sounds like you got your ass _beeeeeeat...~_" Jack sighed as Vert and Uni looked over at him.

"Yeah, jog on, Chika," he retorted sharply, spinning the cylinder of the Mateba. "Let's see you take out an armed gang member in a more dramatic way than beating him to half-death with a strip-club pole." Jack then leaned back as Chika smirked victoriously. "From what my browsin' the internet says, seems like you're more experienced in usin' the pole a different way..."

The air to Jack's immediate left seemed to heat up about a hundred degrees whilst Lady Vert and Uni attempted to conceal smirks. After a moment, Jack fistbumped Uni. "Do I give you any of those 'ban-terr points' for that?" Uni asked. Jack tilted his head side to side.

"Did I proper mug her off?" Uni frowned.

"Um...maybe?"

"Then yeah, do it anyway." Uni nodded in understanding as Jack turned to Chika. "Don't worry, I mean nothin' by it. Just a bit o' banter." The green haired woman huffed and folded her arms, pouting slightly as she thought back to that regrettable evening of drinking. Jack shrugged, and leaned forwards to the table with both hands to pick up the RPD so that he could fiddle with it. Vert sipped her tea, raising a brow at his actions.

"Mr. Glovebox, if you don't mind me asking, do you not feel there is such a thing as 'overkill'?" she asked. Jack shrugged his shoulders, flipping out the bipod of the Soviet machine gun and placing it on the table to point down the garden.

"Well, that's what a machine gun's for, right? Same with you goddesses and your Jesus modes," he replied, opening the top cover to load the weapon with the massive drum magazine beside it. "You could kill somethin' without havin' to transform, but I normally see you do it anyway. Sure, you could argue it's faster, but the extra damage is a bit unnecessary, ain't it?" Vert nodded.

"I suppose," she mused, "What's your point?"

"Then that'd be the same argument I could use for this old thing." He patted the side of the LMG's receiver, forcing a loud clunk from the weapon. "Massive rate of fire, massive ammo drum, massive barrel, massive bullets, massive weapon, massive weight. Where I'm from, and where this is made, nobody's ever gonna take more than a bullet or two to put in the ground, and this thing shits 'em out at a rate of knots. It's got a bipod. You know me: Would I ever use a bipod for anythin', ever?" Vert hesitated.

"I don't particularly follow. I'm not really a gun person."

"Bipods make things more usable when you're lyin' down in one place and firin'. Key word in that is 'lyin' down in one place'." Chika raised her head up slightly.

"That's five words."

"Oh, sod off."

"She's right, that was five words," Vert noted.

"Fuckin' hell, whatever. I don't stay in one place. I could see James usin' a bipod, but not-"

"Then why not give it to him?" Uni suggested. Jack rolled his eyes at the comment.

"Just because it has a bipod doesn't mean I need to use it. Just hold it at the hip and proper fuck some lads up whilst chewin' through lads and runnin' around: That's how I'll use it." Chika, Vert, and Uni cast cautious glances at him as he racked the bolt, instigating a loud crack from the huge weapon. He smiled. "Beautiful. Don't get that satisfaction from a close quarters weapon, I tell you that much." Shouldering the weapon from his seat, he looked down the garden through the iron sights. "See ladies, this is the kind of thing you take with you if you want to stop an advancin' army. Not just a squad: An army. Seven-'undred-and-fifty rounds a minute, and a hundred shots to do some serious damage to the poor twats you get set upon." Pausing, he glanced over to Uni. "Remember the first time we both fought a field of Dogoos, Uni?"

The young girl nodded eagerly, beaming. "You did a number on them, yeah! That was the first time we actually went out together!" Jack smiled.

"Indeed, it bloody well was! Just think how much faster it'd have been done if I'd've had one of these things on me at the time!" The girl let out a small 'oooh' of appreciation as she had the mental image of Dogoo-infested plain of land, rapidly clearing up under a hail of gunfire.

Her face flushed slightly. "W-We'd have crashed those plains..."

"With no survivors!" Chika added, picturing Jack marching through a field full of Ancient Dragons and mowing through them with a determined look on his face and lots of explosions. "I think it's more impressive that you'd be able to just carry the thing around..."

"What do you expect?" Vert smiled, reclining. "He's a big guy." Momentarily, she blushed at the thought of seeing him dressed as a shirtless butler.

"Yeah, Gamindustri's reckonin', an' all that shit," Jack sighed, lowering the RPD and storing it in his disk with a bright pink flash. He thought about how much he hated Bane for putting him in a world of memes. Just before he could get the AK to give it a once-over, the group heard rather uneven footsteps coming out of the basilicom behind them. Turning, they were greeted by the sight of Chaz, still wearing his helmet and armoured flight suit in spite of the fact that he had no plane. Slung across his back was the MP5K that he seemed rather attached to, and the Nighthawk sat neatly in its holster. As he walked towards them, Jack noticed the unevenness in his gait.

Specifically, one that pointed towards his left knee and left ankle being fucked.

Jack whistled through his teeth as he felt Vert's burning glare in the back of his head, but nevertheless raised a hand to greet the pilot. "Alright, Chaz?" he asked, once the masked man stood in front of him.

"Yeah, doing alright," Chaz nodded, voice still slightly broken by the filter. Not broken enough, though: Jack could still detect a British accent. Thank fuck, at least he wasn't a bloody Yank. "Just waiting for something to do."

"How's the knee?"

"Still a bit stiff."

"Fair enough."

"Apologize." Vert ordered. "_Now_."

"Oi, nah, mate," Jack groaned, turning around to face her. "He doesn't give a fuck!"

"It sort of hurts sometimes," Chaz noted, raising a hand.

"He's in extreme pain!" Vert cried, standing up and pulling Chaz down to her height so she could hold his head defensively to her chest. "How could you be so heartless as to shoot him, Mr. Glovebox?" Chaz seemed to be trying to dislodge his helmet from between her ample breasts, but to no avail.

"Jesus, your grip's ridiculous!" he grunted, trying to force himself away. Vert responded by gently caressing the top of his helmet. "Get the fuc-"

"Shhh...it's OK, I'm here for you," she whispered, gently stroking him like he was a frightened puppy. Chaz stopped struggling, but most likely not out of enjoyment. Jack was pretty sure he could read a look of abject terror on Chaz's face, even through the flight helmet. Nevertheless, he and Uni both had rather alarmed facial expressions on their faces, and Chika's face had turned the same shade of green as her hair due to excessive envy.

_**That evening...**_

Jack sat with Chaz on the patio of the basilicom yet again. Chika, Vert, and Uni had gone inside, most likely to bed, and the two men were left alone to look over the night city.

However, neither had said a word since earlier.

After an incredibly long silence, Chaz cleared his throat.

"Oi, Jack?" he asked.

"Aye?"

"I'm confused."

"Really? I'd bloody well hope so. Unless you're into the kind of thing Lady Vert did earlier. I'm not here to pass judgements. Personally I find that kind of thing sorta hot..."

"No, not that," Chaz said quickly, waving a hand. "I'm confused as to how someone like you did so much to help here."

"Why?" Jack asked, raising a brow and glancing over to him. "What of it? I'm a nice bloke...I, uh, think."

"You started bloody diplomatic relations between for countries that have been at war for centuries! How'd YOU, of all people, do that?"

"I threatened to hurt them both mentally and physically in ways they could not possibly begin to fathom." Jack said coldly, giving Chaz the most serious stare he had ever seen. After a moment of silence, Chaz raised a finger and inhaled.

"...right, fair enough, then..." he muttered, trailing off and looking back out over the city. Once again, silence reigned between the two. After a minute or two, Jack decided to give out his own question.

"So why a jet?" he asked. Chaz looked at him.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Why a jet? Out of everythin' you could have had, you picked a jet. What if you couldn't land it anywhere?"

"I'd just keep flying," Chaz replied casually. "The things just don't run out of fuel. Every single one has constantly been able to keep going for what I think is an infinite amount of time. I think it goes by the same principle as you not running out of bullets."

In response, Jack gave his best "Fair enough..." expression. Then he paused. "Wait...the thing_**s**_? You have more than one?"

"I seem to have as many as I want."

Immediately, Jack grinned, clapped, and pointed straight at Chaz.

"_**GUESS HOW WE'RE GOIN' TO LOWEE TOMORROW, FAGGOT?**_"

Chaz regretted his decisions in life.


	19. But it ain't me!

Jack had decided not question the fact that Chaz had somehow summoned a Huey when his back was turned. God knows how he did it. Chaz (presumably) offered him a grin behind his helmet, and leaned on it proudly, polishing his Nighthawk like nobody's business.

"Like it?" asked the pilot as Jack stared at the new front-lawn ornament, almost dumbfounded. Uni was already sitting in the rear seats, swinging her legs due to the fact she was so small compared to it, gazing in wonder at all the netting and 'Nam-era styling. "I call it, 'The Fortunate Son'." Jack didn't respond to the shitty reference to a terrible country's stupid wars. Instead, he opted to simply walk back into the basilicom in order to say his farewells before he, Uni, and Chaz made their way to Lowee. The weather was rather warm outside, so as usual, Vert was inside. And as usual, that meant she was sitting in her room. Jack had no idea what she did in there.

Violently masturbate?

Perhaps.

Maybe that's why she yelled so much when nobody else was in there.

That assumption in mind, he opted not to knock on the door. Someone else would tell her, or something. Simple manners, don't knock on someone's door when they're having a wank.

After a little bit of wandering, he paused, then shook his head and began making his way out. He'd realized there was probably no point in trying to find anybody, because he'd only run into them if they wanted to run into him.

"Or when it's convenient to the plot," came a sudden voice. Again, Jack paused, and threw his arms up in the air in frustration, turning to the source.

"For God's sake, not this bullshit again," he groaned. Behind him, Chika was approaching with her usual "_I prefer younger men_" strides and "_I spiked your wine and you belong to me_" smirk. Jack was used to it, so he didn't comment on the fact Chika always radiated an aura of "Cougar". "I don't even know what you lot go on about when you talk about the 'plot' or 'audience' or fuckin' 'story'."

Chika opted to simply raise a brow and walk alongside him as he made his way back to the exit. "You're not in on that joke?" she asked. She seemed rather surprised. "Hmm."

"Yeah. Do us a favour and fill me in," Jack said flatly. Chika thought for a moment, then closed her eyes, grinning.

"Nope, you can just struggle with it," she giggled, prompting a groan from Jack as they made it outside. Almost immediately upon sighting the olive-green Huey sitting on the basilicom's front lawn, she stopped, and gawped at it. For a moment, she said nothing. "Where..." she began, a look of shock plastered onto her usually smug face. "Where were...where were you even keeping this...?" Not even letting Chaz speak up, Jack turned, and flashed a shit-eating grin as he looked back at Chika, climbing into the left gunner's side of the small helicopter.

"You can just struggle with it."

Chika rolled her eyes, shaking her head clear as she approached. "Fuck you." For a moment, Jack was quite surprised.

"My, my," he laughed as the Oracle slowly began walking around the helicopter, eyeing it up and down almost suspiciously with her hands on her hips. "Mind your fuckin' language, Chika. Uni's nearby."

"Eh?" Uni perked up. "I wasn't listening, sorry."

Chaz turned to her, rubbing the slide of the handgun in his gloved grip in an attempt to clear some of _his_ blood from it. "Yeah, Chika said 'Fuck you' to Jack. Ain't she rude?" Uni nodded, and folded her arms with a frown.

"Really?" she sighed, shaking her head. "Wow, Oracle Hakozaki, you should know better than to swear with me around." The green-haired woman frowned, and a moment later, looked up at Chaz. The helmeted man glanced back at her, and tilted his head.

"Something you need?" he asked. Chika assessed him for a moment.

"You can pilot this, yes?" Chaz nodded in response. "Good. Just make sure you reach Lowee intact. Lady Vert would like to present you to the rest of the goddesses in order to demonstrate her newest asset to the air force." Chaz gave another nod, and slipped his Nighthawk back into its holster. Jack sat up from his position in the gunner's seat, shocked.

"Wait, have you fuckin' signed some contract?" he asked, angrily, glaring at Chika. "Lady Vert fuckin' well told me she wouldn't sign any deals without tellin' the other goddesses! Why's she signin' Chaz onto the fuckin' Air Force?" Chika calmly shrugged, a nonchalant look on her face.

"Not my place to say," she replied flatly, "Once we'd deemed him no threat to Leanbox whilst you had your...well, 'episode', we signed him up." She paused, glancing at the Huey. Then she smirked. "At least we don't need go building him a new jet or anything. Looks like he just pulls the things out of his a-"

"CHIKA, STOP SWEARIN', IT'S SETTIN' FUCKIN' BAD EXAMPLES FOR UNI," Jack snapped, his hands over Uni's ears. The Oracle gave him a deadpan look. Uni continued looking around with a confused expression, still swinging her legs and remaining unsure as to why she was allowed to listen to Jack turning the air blue, but not anyone else.

"Whatever," Chika muttered, rubbing her forehead. "My dearest Vert is busy today, so she won't be here to say goodbye. Apologies for that." Jack dismissed it with a hand, setting himself down behind the Huey's mounted M60 and leaning on it.

"Tell her it's fine. She's comin' along to Lowee, ain't she?" Chika gave a nod.

"Yes, she'll be there. Are you leaving Mr. Monoplie and Mr. Black here?" Jack raised a brow, and tilted his head.

"I thought they were comin' along."

Chika just shrugged, and began to walk away into the basilicom. "Well, they're bloody well not staying here. I'll go find them for you." Jack nodded, and began fiddling with the M60 in front of him. Uni quietly twiddled her thumbs. Chaz flicked the lights of the Huey on and off, repeatedly. After a moment, Jack leaned over to the cockpit.

"Oi, Chaz."

"Yeah?"

"Does this thing have a radio or anythin'?"

"It's...got a speaker, I think. Lemme check." Uni perked up as Chaz began browsing the control panel.

"Why's a military helicopter got a speaker?" she asked.

"Psychological warfare, I assume," Chaz shrugged, randomly pressing a button. "Americans were real arseholes in every war."

"They still are," Jack corrected. "Remember how many of the people on our trainin' were Yanks?"

"Predominantly? Yeah."

"Strikes me as sayin' summat when most of the people on a course to go and explore and settle in a new place are Americans. Greedy fuckers should stay Stateside." Chaz frowned behind his helmet.

"Bit racist, Jack..." he muttered. Jack simply leaned back in his chair and shrugged, resting his booted feet on the M60 and folding his arms.

"Am I meant to fuckin' care? I just wanna get shiftin' to Lowee." Chaz looked back at him for a moment, before shaking his head and looking forwards in silence, fiddling with the controls for the Huey. Uni decided to sit next to Jack, since then she'd be certain that she would have someone to catch her if she fell out of the helicopter. Though, she kept some distance. She was on her first real trip anywhere without her sister, so she was brave enough to sit alone.

As she noticed Luke and Josh approaching the helicopter, she shifted closer to Jack, hugging his arm as closely as she could. "U-Um..." Jack raised a brow as the rotors whined into life.

"You alright there?" he asked. Uni looked up worriedly, then nodded. Smiling, Jack patted her on the head and ruffled her hair slightly. "Good. And don't worry about those two. They're on the other side of the Huey. Just you and me on this side, alright? No point bein' frightened." After a moment, Uni smiled, and leaned her head on Jack's shoulder as the helicopter took off. Jack decided to keep rubbing her head: It wasn't like Uni even minded. For a moment, the only noise was the loud drone of the rotors as the helicopter lifted up from the basilicom lawn, but that was quickly shattered when Chaz yelled back.

"_**Guys, I got the radio working! This thing has subwoofers!**_" shouted the pilot. Jack raised his free hand and let out a loud whoop, the same noise coming from the other side with Josh and Luke. Uni remained indifferent, but Jack didn't.

He pointed straight at Chaz's visor, smirking. "_**Cue that fuckin' music!**_" The helmeted pilot grinned behind his visor, nodded, and clicked play on the pre-loaded cassette tape. As if on cue, there came the loud, echoing sound of _Fortunate Son's_ opening guitar riff ringing about the basilicom's air, accompanied by the four lads aboard the helicopter somehow cheering louder than both the speaker and helicopter engine combined as the Huey slowly turned towards the North, towards Lowee. Until such a point where they could actually _see_ the snowy nation, the helicopter's earth-born occupants (_Plus their Gamindustrian passenger_) decided to sing along.

Loudly.

And badly.

As she heard the hardly pleasant vocal work of the travelling gun show disappear into the distance, Chika found herself exhaling, and rubbing her forehead as she went back inside. "At least **'it ain't me'** who's gonna be listening to that..." she mused. Briefly, she chuckled at the song reference. Then, she realized she had never heard the song before, and frowned. "...how did I know that was a reference...?"

_**After a few hours of flying...**_

Whilst Tekken stood outside that evening, barefoot in the snowy Lowee outdoors whilst she put away the merchandise from out the front of the shop, she was sure she heard an echoing sound in the distance, even over the sound of the Lowee winds whistling through the alleys of the street. It wasn't loud enough to really make her think it was anything, but it was...well, _there_. Not that she particularly cared. If it was a monster, she'd fight it. If it wasn't a monster, she felt like her first instinct was going to be panic, stutter, and make whimpering noises until it wandered off.

That was the sad reality she had come to accept.

Tekken had other things on her mind, though: For instance, she had just stepped her bare sole on a particularly large pebble, and it felt _great_. She paused to shudder at the majesty of the feeling, the 'Come and See!' sign from the street that she used to advertise her store resting on her shoulder. Momentarily, she was in paradise...she briefly looked around.

Was anyone watching?

It didn't seem like it.

Perhaps she could indulge herself in the pain for a little bit?

The cold weather against the bare skin that her revealing outfit displayed meant that her flesh was considerably more sensitive than it would be if she were indoors. Thus, what would normally have been a nice little buzz on the bottom of her foot was like an overwhelming surge of pleasure up her right leg. She wasn't really one to pass up on an opportunity like the one she was presented with...

Quickly, she went back inside, put the sign in the corner where she normally left it, and was just about to head back outside, when...

"_Tekken!_" came MAGES.' voice from their apartment upstairs. The grey-haired maker stopped in her tracks and sighed, drooping her head slightly as she closed her eyes. '_So close..._' she thought sadly. After a moment, she turned back in order to make her way over to the staircase.

"Y-Yes, MAGES.?" she responded feebly, carefully making her way up to their shared abode. The usual, flimsy wooden door greeted her, left ajar slightly so she wouldn't be locked out. Once she was inside, she wiped her feet on the doormat, closed the door behind her, and shuffled into the living room. It was a bit darker than usual, and the fireplace was on. MAGES. was lying on one of the couches, wearing her black shirt, red tie, skirt, and leggings, reading a book. Her coat and hat were on a rack in the corner of the room. Right next to that, with struggling floorboards beneath, was the logging appliance that Mr. Loondumb had left behind. The yellow case for the chainsaw, labelled '_Binski Logging_', had been gathering dust and losing colour in the sunlight, causing the text to begin to peel away, and for the yellow to start becoming a mottled grey-gold. The saw itself was in need of some WD40 lubricant.

Of course, that didn't matter to the girls. They didn't need to look after it. Mr. Loondumb should have been thankful that MAGES. actually kept it around to give to him when she next _saw_ him (**hehe**). Tekken looked at MAGES.. "Hello?" she greeted confusedly. The wizard cast her a sideways glance, looking up from what was presumably one of the science fiction books that Tekken found in her stuff once.

"Try not to indulge your masochistic tendencies out in the street, Tekken," began the wizard. Tekken swallowed, and stepped back, twiddling her thumbs and sweating.

"B-But I-I'm not a m-masochist!" she whimpered. MAGES. rolled her eyes.

"I won't insult your intelligence by pretending you believe for one moment that what you just said is true." There was silence between the two. Finally, Tekken rubbed the back of her head and let out a quiet giggle.

"Additionally, you didn't see any unusual aircraft above Lowee whilst you were out just then, did you?" The fistfighter shook her head, walking across the room and throwing herself upside down onto the other couch to stretch herself out.

"No...I think I heard something, though."

"What did it sound like?" MAGES. asked. Her attention had gone back to her book.

"Like...uh...a quiet _whuppawhuppawhuppa_ noise, and some rock music. I think there was also some singing, too, but that was kind of bad."

"So a helicopter, then?"

"Maybe. Why would anyone have a helicopter out this late?"

"The rich will do what they please, Tekken," MAGES. sighed, "And I can only assume that the helicopter belongs to some arrogant rich businessman who wants to annoy a lot of people with their rather poor choice in music." Tekken frowned, mulling the thought over. The only sound was the crackling fireplace. Finally, she made an admittedly cute 'nngh' noise as she stretched out.

"What's for dinner?" she asked. MAGES. shrugged.

"I'll be doing food shopping tomorrow. Do you want to order pizza?"

Tekken smiled, and nodded.

_'Score!'_

_**Meanwhile, in the Lowee basilicom's courtyard...**_

It was cold nights like that night which made Mina question why she always volunteered to greet guests. Even though Mr. Hillman was with her, leaning against a pillar and fiddling with his rifle, she wasn't having a good time, and was mentally kicking herself for not wearing warmer clothes.

Instead, she had been stupid enough to wear her usual robes and thin leggings. That meant she was shivering. A _**lot**_. Quietly, her teeth gnashed together, and she stomped her feet slightly to see if they hadn't fallen off from frostbite. "Th-This wasn't o-o-one of my s-smarter ideas-s-s..." she muttered, scrunching her face up slightly. James didn't even raise his head, still gently turning the Arctic Warfare's scope a degree at a time.

"My worst idea was accidentally leavin' my Berettas lyin' around for Rom and Ram to paint on," he replied calmly, scratching his chin. "Left one blue, right one pink. Congrats to them for only paintin' the slides and frames, though. Perfect electroplating, too..." Mina glanced at him, still finding some amusement in the fact he was right: The formerly gunmetal grey handguns resting in the leather holsters beneath his armpits were now either matte pink or matte blue. It looked frankly ridiculous when she watched him fighting a small herd of Shoebills that had entered Lowee's city limits: A heavily armoured man, with an expression of lethal focus on his face, spraying lead down at his enemies with lethally accurate shots from two oddly coloured pistols. It was amusing at the time, though not for the poor market stall owner who had attempted to sue James for causing tinnitus from the repeated handgun shots.

Mina was about to stutter something in response when she began to hear the faint sound of helicopter rotors coming from the darkened skies over the city. Alongside that, if she looked out through the snowstorm and night hard enough, she could just make out the impression of a light inside a cockpit. Alongside the rotors, however, there was the more (_unfortunately_) noticeable sound of loud rock music echoing through the night.

Mina scrunched her nose slightly, focusing. "Do you hear a helicopter, Mr. Hillman?" she asked, trying to focus on the approaching airborne object. James nodded, stepping away from the pillar, and gripping his rifle as he walked up beside Mina.

"Yeah, I do..." James sniffed slightly, frowning, chambering a round in the blink of an eye before he shouldered the massive sniper rifle. Glancing down the scope, he could far more clearly make out the approaching lights of a helicopter's cockpit. The doors seemed to be closed, considering that light wasn't coming from the sides. Additionally, the doors being closed meant that the likelihood of him receiving any fire from the sides was exceptionally low. As it got closer, he began to make out the occupants, but barely. In the pilot's seat, there was a helmeted and masked man, wearing what looked like body armour crossed with a boiler suit. In the seat next to him...was Jack?

He lowered his rifle in confusion. Mina looked up at him. "What's the matter?" she asked. James tilted his head.

"Wasn't Jack meant to be gettin' dropped off by Lady Green Heart?" he inquired. Mina thought for a minute, then shrugged.

"I'm afraid I can't give you a confirmable answer," she sighed, "But they would _surely_ have called ahead to say they would be in a helicopter..." James shook his head, looking back through the scope as the aircraft approached further.

"Yeah, nah, looks like Jack's made a new friend," he replied casually, adjusting the focus on the sight. After a moment, he raised a brow. Then a moment later, he raised both brows. "Well, fuck me." Mina blushed slightly.

"U-U-Uh! Th-That's wholly inappro-!"

"He's made even more friends, and brought two of his other mates." Mina raised a brow, adjusting her glasses and looking worried as ever.

"How many people are in that helicopter?"

"About five. One of 'em looks to be a kid or summat. Two of the lads in the back I'd recognize anywhere because of their smug-shit faces. Guy piloting is wearing a helmet. Then you've got Jack himself in the back of the chopper."

Mina looked even more concerned, somehow. She glanced around at the surrounding area of the courtyard. "Will they be able to safely land it here?" James nodded.

"Oh, yeah, more than enough space. Besides, I can only assume the guy piloting knows what the hell he's doin', otherwise he wouldn't fuckin'-well be here." Sighing, he flicked the takedown switch on the stock of his Arctic Warfare, and folded the stock in half for compactness, before slinging it over his shoulder. It was a massive weight he was used to; Two Berettas, two Uzis, an AWP, and enough body armour that you'd think he was a TechForcer. He folded his arms, and looked at the chopper as it slowed, beginning to slowly ascend into the courtyard of the basilicom. The rock music was now incredibly loud, and because of its proximity, Mina was now within her rights to speak her mind.

"Their music choice is appalling," she said miserably as the rotors wound themselves down with a steadily decreasing whine. The music also turned off near simultaneously, and the figures inside the vehicle went for the doors, sliding them open.

Naturally, first and foremost was the smug form of Jack, who hopped straight off the chopper and walked towards James with a grin. James couldn't help but return it. "How's it goin', Jamesy?" Jack greeted warmly, extending a hand for their kickarse handshake.

"Doin' solid, doin' solid," James replied calmly, partaking in the bro-handshake. Mina suddenly found herself completely nude and covered in petrol stains whilst fixing a monster truck engine, it was just so manly. James leaned out past Jack, and gestured to Uni, who was cautiously walking up behind Jack. "Who's this?" he asked. Then he frowned, and pointed to Luke, Josh, and Chaz. "Who the fuck are those gimps?" Jack raised a finger.

First, he pointed at the CPU Candidate behind him. "That's Uni, Uni's great," he began. Then he pointed to Luke, "That's Luke, who you know," Then he pointed to Josh, "That's Josh, who you unfortunately know," He finally pointed to Chaz, who was checking his gear in the chopper cockpit. "And that's Chaz. I kneecapped him the other day but he's a pretty chill bloke." Finally, Jack gestured to the helicopter. "And this beautiful machine is _The Fortunate Son_." James slouched back slightly and groaned, smirking.

"Oh, _wow_, did you seriously name it that?" he asked. Jack nodded triumphantly with his hands heroically on his hips, as Luke and Josh approached beside him. They glanced at Mina, then looked at James. Luke raised a finger after a moment, pointing between the marksman and the Oracle.

"Are you two, like, fuck buddies?" he asked casually. Mina immediately grew red faces, sputtering angry responses to such a l-lewd question. James folded his arms, and shifted his weight, not looking amused in the slightest. Jack, meanwhile, quickly covered Uni's ears, before lifting his hand off one ear slightly to whisper to her.

"_You're too young to know what that means._" Uni rolled her eyes. She already knew what that meant: She'd made the mistake of reading one of her sister's private books that she'd left lying around.

_That_ was an eye-opening experience.

_**The next morning...**_

Blanc barely reacted to the presence of four additional people at the breakfast table. Nor did she display a reaction to the fact that one of them was Noire's younger sister. Nor did she seem to be bothered by the fact that James, Jack, Josh, and Luke seemed to know each other very well and none of them would just shut up, whilst Chaz sat opposite Mina, the two of them silently judging each other whilst they ate.

The Lowee CPU was honestly more confused by the fact Chaz was eating with a helmet on, than anything else. But she didn't display that. Instead, she just opted to eat her cereal and observe Mr. Hillman's so-called _**'Goonsquad™**__'_ and their inter-group interactions. So far, she had made interesting notes from Mr. Loondumb's ranting that Mr. Monoplie was _'__**a right stuck-up prick**__',_ and that Mr. Black was _**'probably looking for scrap metal because that's what pikeys do'**_**.** Mentally, she made sure she remembered to note them down later on, for when she released a fact book about Earth society.

Quietly, she cleared her throat, and looked at Mina. The Oracle still had her worried gaze set on Chaz, who had already eaten over half of the breakfast he had been served, with none of it going on his helmet or mask. "Oracle Nishizawa," began the CPU, prompting Mina to jump slightly, shake her head clear, and look at her boss.

"Y-Yes, Lady Blanc?" she responded. Blanc glanced down the table at the four bickering men, then back at Mina.

"You did confiscate Mr. Black and Mr. Monoplie's weapons, didn't you?" The Oracle swallowed, then nodded, leaning towards Lady Blanc to avoid the men hearing.

"We...had them removed from their rooms last night whilst they slept," she whispered. "An assault rifle, a double-barrelled pistol, a semi-automatic pistol, and multiple knives, among other things." Blanc nodded understandingly, rubbing her adorable little chin thoughtfully.

"Such armaments would bolster Lowee's military..." she mused. Finally, she sighed, looking back at Mina. "Ask them." The Oracle swallowed again, adjusted her collar, and glanced down past Rom and Ram at Luke and Josh. The latter two were engaged in a spot of the age old schoolyard game of **'**_**Don't you dare call me a cunt, I'll gouge your fucking eyes out with my thumbs, you arrogant prick**_', so, naturally, Mina was _quite_ hesitant to interrupt. Before she could speak, however, both Luke and Josh had sugar cubes thrown at their heads. They jumped in surprise, turning to see James in the post-throw stance. He glared at them for a second, then jabbed a thumb at Mina. Both Luke and Josh, realizing what he meant, turned to her.

"Hi," Luke said flatly. Mina swallowed again.

"H-Hello...ahem. I-It is my duty, a-as Oracle, to aid in the development of Lowee as a countr-"

"You already lectured us on this," Josh groaned.

"We get it, you're second in command," Luke added.

"You two're still gonna fuuuuuu..." Jack glanced at Rom and Ram, who were staring at him curiously, as they always did when he was about to swear. "...dgin' listen to her anyway, or I'll remove your heads with some double-aught buckshot, got it?" Luke and Josh glared at him, before sighing and admitting defeat. Jack gestured to Mina, leaning back in his chair slightly. "Sorry for interruptin'. Carry on, Oracle." The blue-haired woman looked at him with her usual look of concern, then cleared her throat.

"...th-thank you, Mr. Loafbun...as I was saying to you two, we believe it may be in Lowee's best interests to reverse-engineer some of your equi-"

"No."

"No."

"Do it anyway," Jack cut in, drawing most eyes in the room towards him. "Lazy gits should be able to learn how to pull their own weight around here whilst you're workin' with their guns." Luke and Josh, quite rightfully, began yelling expletives at him. James and Mina rushed to cover Rom and Ram's ears, and Jack did the same with Uni whilst he dodged a bombardment of cutlery from the two other men.

Blanc was beginning to think she was no longer the most foul-mouthed and violent character.


	20. Sorting Out Problems With Shouting

"So, Lady Blanc," Jack began, stretching his back out whilst he wandered behind the much smaller girl. "What's on the agenda for this meetin'?" Whilst Chaz, Luke, and Josh were ordered into the science labs for inspection (_As though any of them weren't basically the same_), Jack and James had been told that they would be attending the next summit, which was once again being held in Lowee. Blanc, being Blanc, didn't turn to look at him, and simply carried on shuffling along with her absolutely adorable look of disinterest.

"I think this meeting regards the terms of military usage," she responded quietly, "And whether or not we share technology to ensure an even playing field in the event that the treaty is broken." Momentarily, she stopped, turning to look up at Jack and James as they looked down at her. "As far as military equipment standards go in Lowee, you two are carrying small artillery pieces. Depending on how this meeting goes, you may end up needing to share the technology."

"Try Luke and Josh," Jack whistled, hands in his pockets. "Regardless of what they say, you still have their guns, which are effectively the same as ours."

"Yours are more powerful," Blanc replied. Jack shook his head.

"I'm assumin' it's got summat to do with my level. Last I checked, I was level...?"

"One hundred and eighty three."

"Ah, right. Gone up a bit, then."

James raised his brows in surprise, looking at Jack, who nodded in understanding. "Fuckin' hell, lad, you been grindin'?" His partner just shrugged.

"A bit, maybe. Apparently yellin' at the CPUs when I first arrived raised my level to summat ridiculous."

"Bollocks, I got some catchin' up to do, then..." James trailed off. After a moment, he looked at Blanc. "Lady Blanc, wha-?"

"Fifty seven."

"DAMMIT!" James yelled angrily, stomping his foot slightly as Jack threw his head back and started laughing. "This is bullshit, how many enemies do I need to kill to reach Jack's level?!" Blanc thought for a moment.

"About nineteen thousand, six hundred and thirty eight of the Dogoos you'd find in a low-threat area of a dungeon." Jack was laughing even harder, now, whilst James struggled to find words, instead opting to stare at Blanc in absolute shock. It took a moment for Jack to stop laughing, by which point he had genuine tears in his eyes. He stood up from leaning on the wall, then stumbled over to James, holding his side.

"Hooo...ohhhh...fuckin' hell. Christ, that killed me..." The taller man wagged a finger towards Blanc. "You...you're a right fuckin' comedian, Lady Blanc. You know that, don't ya?" The CPU offered her usual Blanc (_Geddit? Blanc? Blank? Christ, you people are fucking impossible_) stare back up at him, looking as bored as ever.

"I'm not joking, though," she replied quietly, turning and beginning to shuffle away. "Mr. Loondumb is the fifth highest-level individual in the country that I know of." As she said this, a massive, shit-eating grin appeared as Jack leaned towards James with his usual look of smug cunt-ishness that appeared on his face whenever he did something better than someone. James folded his arms huffily whilst the two trailed along behind. Jack opened his mouth to speak.

"Aaaaaayyyyy-"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, you over-levelled dickhead."

"_Awww, it's OK, James,"_ Jack laughed, taking on a rather mocking voice. "_Love you, be mine. Love you, James, be miiine."_ A smile broke out on James' face.

"Oh, don't start that shit again. Fuckin' trainin', man."

"Be miiine..." Jack laughed, walking straight once again. James sighed, smiling.

"Bollocks to that," he replied casually, "Don't think we've got anythin' to grow up to be. Not even in our twenties, and already out of options."

"Dunno about you, but I bloody well feel old. Look at all the bastards here: Mincin' about with their fancy lasers and magic powers and all that shite. You don't need that; You just need a good, high-power gun." To punctuate, Jack withdrew the .44 Magnum revolver as they followed behind Blanc towards the meeting room, idly spinning the non-metaphorical handcannon around his index finger on the approach. James glanced nervously at it.

"That's...got a safety, ha'n't it?" he asked cautiously, raising a brow. "Wouldn't do any good for the meetin' if you accidentally blew a hole in the wall the size of my dick." Jack grinned at him.

"You'd be surprised to know how small a bullet hole is, then," he responded with his usual smart-arse grin. "Says a lot about your life if your dick's that fuckin' tiny." Blanc let out a '_pfffft_' up front, desperately trying to conceal a grin with her hand as she walked. James frowned, and rolled his eyes, whilst Jack whistled, throwing his revolver away and watching it disintegrate into purple energy as it returned to his disk.

The trio entered the room as expected; Already present were Noire, Vert, and Neptune, all sat around the walnut table with the fire roaring behind them. The empty seat at the head of the table had a few books stacked on it, so Blanc could reach a similar height to the rest of the CPUs. With the air of quiet confidence she normally held, Blanc entered the room, greeted the other CPUs, and then clambered onto her pile of books. The brief pleasantries subsided, and the meeting began. Noire went first.

"If you girls don't mind, I'd like to begin with a glaring issue." she said calmly, adjusting her papers by tapping them on the table. Then, she suddenly slammed them down on the desk with the force of a million angry wanks and slammed a finger towards Jack, who recoiled slightly. "_**WHAT IN THE LIVING SHIT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SISTER?!**_" Immediately, the air in the room turned hostile, with Jack raising his hands and making an '_Ohhhh!_' gesture as Blanc and Vert rolled their eyes. Neptune continued idly swinging her legs with a pleasant expression, having no clue what was going on outside of the fact Noire was yelling again.

"This bullshit? Already?" Jack retorted, glaring back at her. "I've already told you, Lady Noire, your sister's-"

"In your hands! And that's why I'm pissed!"

"Sorry, but is she doin' fine? She's probably had a better time these past few days than she's had in _months_ of your care!" Noire gasped.

"You're in _NO_ position to tell me how happy my sister is!" She stood up circling around the table and standing in front of Jack aggressively. James backed the fuck up as the two narrowed their eyes at each other.

"Yeah?" Jack snapped. "Well, I damn-well think I am!"

"Then let's see your evidence! _Prove_ that she's enjoyed herself! _Prove_ that she enjoyed being kidnapped by some asshole who does nothing for society but swear and shoot things! Did you even _do_ anything with her except things to indulge in your own little vendetta against me?"

"I don't have a fuckin' vendetta against you!" Jack shouted back, jabbing a finger at her. "If I did, your sister'd be fuckin' well DEAD. But she's not, and you know why? Because I actually give a shit about her, unlike you!" Noire was taken aback.

"...H-How...how _**DARE**_ you!" she screeched. The room's other occupants cast each other a look of concern, before deciding not to intervene. Instead, Vert, Neptune, Blanc, and James all stood and left the room, closing the door behind them and leaving the two bitter parties to yell at each other. "You've come from another universe! You're just some low-class, gun-toting _jerk-off_ that doesn't achieve anything here, didn't achieve anything back home, and is only gonna cause problems for everyone by not achieving anything else whilst he's here!" The CPU stepped forward, shoving Jack's chest. "All you did was blackmail us into sorting out a 'peace treaty', then started mooching off of the CPUs because you think you're some kind of hero!" Jack grit his teeth, and carried on glaring at her.

She had a point.

He _did_ rely on the CPUs too much.

"You're acting like you've got some divine right to just waltz into other people's affairs and take as you please! First, you shot me in the back _and_ Green Heart in the stomach! You think that's justifiable? You gave me a bruise that lasted a month, you prick! And what about Green Heart? You think she's just _accepted_ that you shot her in the gut?"

"She hasn't brought it up since-"

"That's because she's so damn polite!" Noire yelled, cutting him off. "She's not the type of person to just start arguments for the sake of it! She's not an arrogant sack of scum like you! And you feel you've got some right to just mooch off of her hospitality?" Jack remained silent. Noire just made a 'hmm' noise, arms folded. "That's what I thought. And that's just the _start_ of the list. You've caused _thousands_ of credits worth of agricultural damages to Lastation, verbally_ assaulted_ me on countless occasions, and now you _**steal my SISTER?!**_" Jack grit his teeth, clenching his fists. "It's no wonder your world sent you away! Even they have standards!" Seeing his reaction, Noire hesitated, and folded her arms, a victorious smirk on her face. "In fact, I'd bet good money that even your _parents_ were-"

"_**SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU SELF-ENTITLED LITTLE CUNT!**_" Jack roared, before suddenly delivering an open-handed slap so hard that the sound seemed almost fake. Noire could only gasp in surprise as her face jolted right, stinging badly whilst her vision started swirling. Her arms dropped, and she felt her cheek with her right hand, eyes wide and mind still reeling from the impact.

He...he'd actually...actually _hit_ her...and...and drawn blood...wh-what...?

Before she could even think up a counter, or even consider HDD'ing up, she felt her left twin-tail being tugged on, forcing her to look back at her taller counterpart as he lifted her off the ground by her hair almost effortlessly. Through her own, watering eyes, she could see something she hadn't ever seen in Mr. Lovebun's eyes.

Pure, unfiltered, burning hot hatred, directed towards her.

"**You know what I fuckin' well think I did?!**" Jack yelled, coming within a few inches of her face. Noire could only struggle against the hand that gripped her hair, desperately trying to escape. "**I helped your sister get away from YOU! You're a fuckin' work-obsessed, spiteful, self-righteous piece of shit! You're EVERYTHING that I hated back home, and everything I NEVER should have been! I worked too hard, hated everyone that was around me, and as far as I was concerned, I was always the fuckin' one in the right! Well, you know what, you arrogant bitch? That shitty little existence ended the moment I lost MY siblin'!**" Noire stared back at him, shocked and confused.

"Y-Y-You l-lost a s-sibling...?" she sputtered, trying to force his thumb off her hair.

"Yeah, **MY** younger sister: The one who'd ALWAYS given a FUCK about me, always tried greetin' me with a smile, always tried wakin' me in the mornin's, and always - **ALWAYS** \- told me that she loved her older brother. But you know what I did?" For a moment, Noire remained silent, swallowing away some of the dryness from her throat. She thought he was going to hit her again.

Instead, his grip relaxed, and she dropped to the floor, gripping the side of her head. Quickly, Noire shuffled away from him, gazing up at him with...what? Fear? Confusion? Sympathy? She wasn't even sure...

Jack stopped glaring at her, sighed, and walked over to a chair, dropping himself into it carefully, so as not to break it. After a moment of staring ahead, he cleared his throat, and closed his eyes. "Back home, we had some real arseholes runnin' around. Gangs everywhere. Fights were floodin' the streets, violence broke out all the time. Immigrants, some blamed. I didn't. I blamed the media for makin' them think a life like that was cool." He paused, rubbing his eyes. Noire was beginning to stop having head pain, and staggered to her feet, moving over to another chair. "Anyway, one night, my Mum asked me if I wanted to go with her, my Dad, and my sister on a family trip to London. We weren't the kind of family to just..._hide_, because of some terror alerts. Me bein' me, I...I said no. I wanted to speak to my online friends. I was going out with other friends the day after. I'd chosen friends over family, and my Mum was alright with that. I just didn't want to be lookin' after my sister for a day. She said it was alright, said bye, and then the next day, I woke up to find they'd already gone."

Silently, he withdrew his revolver and began field-stripping it on the table beside him, as Noire pulled a chair up in front of him, shakily sitting down. Her eyes flicked between his unnaturally fast hand movements, and his stone-cold, serious expression. "I thought nothin' had gone wrong and it was a normal day out." The sound of the clicking metal parts stopped momentarily, as Jack looked up slightly. He chuckled, rubbing his forehead, before continuing. "Boy, was I wrong...anyway, accordin' to what I was told, some gang members were lookin' for a fight with some other crew they had a problem with, and the car they knew to look for was a Ford Mondeo with blacked out windows. Similar license to our family's car, and the same make." Noire stared at him as he fell silent again. Then, after staring at the revolver for a few seconds, he continued. "My family was goin' through Hoxton, and they passed the gang that was lookin' out for the similar car. No hesitation, they opened fire. First, they got my Mum. Right in the chest, and she drove the car down into the square when she died. My Dad died on impact when the car flipped." Noire's jaw fell open as Jack carried on. "Then, the gang in the pickup drove straight over and emptied their mags into our car. Only one of those bullets hit my sister, and it hit her straight inbetween the eyes."

"I only found out when my friend linked it over Skype. News story: _'Innocent family of three shot dead in East London durin' gang attack'_, it said. I was thinkin' up jokes when I read the article, and then...then I saw the pictures of my Mum, Dad, and sister lyin' dead in the car wreck." Jack gave the cylinder of his revolver a spin, emotionless as he watched the six chambers steadily rotate. Suddenly, he stopped it with his thumb, and looked at Noire. "That's when I stopped thinkin' of jokes. The funeral wasn't good, either. I had to pass myself off as the kind of person who was a great brother; Who gave a shit about his younger sister. And I did. People believed I'd made her life happy, when all I'd done was make all the years of it a fuckin' misery."

Finally, he glared back at Noire, snapping the revolver closed with the rounds chambered. "And when I think signin' up to go somewhere else so that I could escape all that and die alone somewhere would be a good idea, _you_ show up. You're the physical fuckin' _embodiment _of who I used to be. You just act like your sister's just some kind of fuckin' obstruction to your day-to-day life of doin' nothin' but fuckin' work. That's _all_ Uni is to you. A fucking _**obstacle**_. When I showed up the other day, you practically bit her head off for just comin' in and sayin' hi. What if she'd've gone out alone, tried to fight a monster, then been killed? What'd you do then? Your last words to her would have been tellin' her you're fuckin' busy, as if some sheets of paper and corporate bullshit matter more than your own flesh-and-fuckin'-blood." He paused, reclining in the chair as it creaked loudly. "Don't make the mistake I did."

The CPU stared back at the proud warrior. He had _emotions_. He actually _cared_. "So...y-you're being the sibling you wish you had been, and that I'm not...?" she asked cautiously, wiping her eyes. Jack paused, then silently nodded. Noire looked blankly at him. "...it...wasn't a kidnapping...she actually went with you." Another silent nod, and Noire looked down at the floor. The medium-sized living space was silent for a while, the only sounds being the fire crackling gently on the other side of the room, and the metallic snaps of Jack field-stripping his weapons. They hadn't needed cleaning, no matter how much he fired them, but he just needed something to do. Noire remained looking at the ground, thinking over _everything_ he had just laid onto her.

He hadn't killed his family. Someone else did that.

He did care about Uni. Uni cared about him.

He didn't have a vendetta against her. She had one against him through her own jealousy.

He didn't like her because she didn't care about Uni...

...did he actually like her at all?

For a moment, Noire gathered up some courage, and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, though, Jack wet his lips and swallowed slightly, sighing. "Listen...Lady Noire...you're...you're incredible, OK?" he began, sitting up. "You...you run a country, you've got thousands of people who look up to you, you get things done faster than anyone I've ever known...you're amazin'. I...I just want you to know that." Noire's jaw fell open slightly. "But...I just can't hold that much respect for you if you can't even respect your own little sister." Jack paused, and looked at the CPU. "She practically _idolizes_ you. You know that...right?"

Noire blinked, and nodded. "She does visit my office a lot..."

"Exactly. And what do you do when she shows up?"

"Most days..." Noire trailed off, thinking. "...most days, I tell her I'm busy."

"And what about those days where you lock yourself in your office?" Noire froze, and locked her eyes dead ahead.

"I-I..." She was stuttering. Oh God, her face was going red, she was too obvious. How could she get out of that question?! "...I-I'm doing n-nothing...n-nothing at all." Jack narrowed his eyes at her.

"Bullshit," he snapped, glaring towards the CPU. "I just revealed to you the very fuckin' _reason_ I am like I am. Nobody else knows that now except you. Even the fuckin' odds, Noire: What do you do when you lock yourself in your office for half a fuckin' day?" Noire stared back at him worriedly, then finally clenched her fists, furrowed her brow, and sighed.

"_Look._" she began through gritted teeth. "_What I am about to tell you. Is top secret. OK? Nobody else can know about this. __**Ever**__. We clear?_" Jack nodded, and sat up straighter. After a moment of digging, Noire pulled out her phone, before hesitantly pressing a button, looking away, and ramming the device towards Jack. Hesitantly, he accepted it, and looked on the screen.

There, wearing what could only be described as the clothes that some Japanese computer idol singer thingumajigger would wear and posing cheerfully, was Noire. An entire album of pictures like this; Leather jackets, intricate dresses, costumes of all kinds. Jack swept through them, looking each one over with raised brows.

"You made all these outfits?" he asked. He couldn't see Noire's face, but he could tell it was burning crimson at that moment. She forcefully nodded, shrinking slightly in her seat.

"_Ohhh...you're gonna mock me now..._" she whined quietly, curling up into a ball on the chair. Jack said nothing whilst he cycled through the pictures. There had to have been at least six dozen outfits. That was as far as he got, at least, before he cleared his throat.

"I don't see a reason to mock you," he said flatly. Noire's ears pricked up slightly. "They're impressive. Especially since you made them all yourself." Slowly, the CPU turned around. Her eyes were red. She'd actually started crying.

"S-Stop lying..." she whimpered. Jack shook his head.

"I'm not lyin'," he replied, "They're really bloody good. Though I'd suggest makin' sure some of those stay off the internet, or people might start likin' you for the wrong reasons." Noire's blush returned, as she quickly snatched the phone away, locked it, and put it in...wherever she put it.

"You really liked them?" she asked cautiously. Jack nodded.

"Hell of a lot better than these duds," he whistled, gesturing to his clothes. "Pretty sure most of this blood ain't mine." The CPU looked him up and down, then they fell into silence again. The only sound was the door creaking open slightly due to what Jack figured was probably one of Lowee's über winds, and the fire crackling.

"...do..."

Jack looked at her.

"...do...do you think both of us should stop hating each other, now?" she asked. Jack's expression softened.

"Oh, come on, Lady Noire, you should know I've never hated you," he smiled as warmly as he could. "Just didn't like the way you dealt with some things, 's all. You're a good CPU. You gave me a chance, and you _are_ my goddess, since I signed the citizenship papers." The red-eyed CPU smiled gently at him. "I can't exactly hate you, and seein' as how you know my secret, I'm gonna have to be extra nice to you, now."

"Thanks, Mr. Lovebun."

"No worries."

More silence.

"So..." Jack sighed, looking over at her again. "...we're good?" Noire giggled slightly.

"Yeah, I guess we're good. Thanks for slapping some sense into me."

"Ah, it's nothin'. Thanks for givin' me someone to vent all that shit onto." He paused, narrowed his eyes at her for a second. "Hold up, lean over here, Lady Noire. You've got summat on your face." The CPU let out an 'oh', and leaned towards Jack slowly so as not to fall off her chair. Jack, meanwhile, did the same thing, in order to better see what the hell the black smudge-thing was inbetween her eyes. Just as he was close enough to see it, which was when he was about two inches from her face...

"_**Are you guys recording this?**_" came a whisper from the doorway.

"_**You bet your arse I am,**_" came another. "_**Solid blackmail material for the next few years.**_"

"_**Aww...they're so cute!**_" came Neptune's undeniable voice.

"_**I think we should all be more quiet and just let it happen.**_" Blanc suggested.

"_**Yes, we can't just ruin a romance subplot like this! I mean, did anyone here even see this coming?**_" Vert asked.

"_**Not a fuckin' chance. I was expectin' to come back and see Jack smashin' Noire's teeth in with the end of a shotgun.**_"

"_**Mr. Hillman, don't get your hopes up. We all know Mr. Glovebox is tough, but he can't beat our Noire!**_"

Jack and Noire locked eyes, narrowing them. "_What the fuck're they all whisperin' about?"_ Jack asked quietly, flicking his eyes back towards the door briefly. They thought for a minute, then almost simultaneously, both her eyes and Jack's went wide.

"_**Oh no**__," _came their simultaneous groan of understanding.

For another five seconds, they remained still, absolutely shocked at the realization of what it looked like they were doing with their faces two inches apart.

Then Jack span in his seat, withdrew both Matebas from his disk, and began firing both revolvers at the door. "YOU NOSEY BASTARDS!" he yelled, as the sound of about thirty different people running away from the door rang out whilst the sound of about twelve shots hitting the door came mixed with the cartoonish running sound. Upon landing on his back, something soft landed on top of him.

"Ow!" cried Noire, her legs over his right shoulder. "Warn me next time you're gonna move like that!" Jack helped her to her feet as carefully as he could.

"Sorry, I really should've said summat," he whistled, rubbing the back of his head to sort his hair out. He glanced at the door, revolvers ready. "Was that unnecessary, you think?" Noire shrugged as she dusted herself off.

"Well, at least none of them found out about my cosplay habits..." she muttered, moving up beside Jack. The taller man waited a moment to ensure they'd all left, then sent his revolvers away. Sighing contentedly, he put his hands in his pockets and looked down at Noire.

"So we're officially friends now?" he asked. The CPU hesitated, then smiled, moving over and hugging him. It was slightly easier for Jack to reciprocate a hug with Noire than it was with Uni, since Noire was a good bit taller.

"Yeah, we're friends."

The hug continued.

"Your clothes smell like human blood."

Jack panicked slightly.

"N-No, they don't!" he sputtered. "Y-You know that fuckin' smell?!"

"I've smelled it before," Noire replied calmly. "And besides, I've already heard what you did in Leanbox. You're a-"

"Real human bean and a real hero, I know, let's not discuss that."

"R-Right." Noire nodded, brushing her head against him. "Family and murder are off the talk list with you, then..."

"And I won't talk to you about cosplay and conventions, unless we're in private and you want to discuss it...deal?"

"Deal."

"Right." They both paused. "Why are we still huggin'?"

"_The author said so!_" came Vert's sing-song voice from the doorway. Nonchalantly, the CPU walked into the room as if nothing had happened. "Though, I didn't expect _you two_, of all people, to be caught in a moment of passion with each other..."

"It wasn't a moment of fuckin' passion!" Jack snapped.

"Yeah!" Noire added. "I had something on my face and Mr. Lovebun was seeing what it was, that's all!" Vert stood in front of them, and raised a brow.

"Oh, so you're having a purely platonic hug, then?" Jack and Noire paused, then looked at each other. They were _still_ hugging. They went silent.

"Uh...y...yeah, that," Noire stuttered. "We're...keeping warm. That's all."

"Y-Yeah," Jack nodded. Vert took on an unconvinced expression, glanced at the lit fireplace, and then back at them. For a moment, it seemed like she was going to mock them. Then, to their surprise, she smiled.

"So you wouldn't mind if I joined in, then?" she smirked predatorily. The CPU and gunman swallowed. "Or is this something special between you two?" They remained silent. Finally, Noire coughed.

"Uhhhh...you...can join us, I guess, maybe?" she said, blushing slightly. "The more the merrier, right?"

_**Five minutes later...**_

As it turned out, Chaz and Luke had a fair bit in common. Whilst neither were particularly fond of politics, which meant that they had opted to avoid the area where the treaty meeting was happening, the two had been enjoying a leisurely discussion about why British military equipment was so fucking great when James and Josh came running up to them with great urgency. Luke turned in surprise, almost reaching for his sawed-off when he realized he didn't have it. "Woah, what's up with you two?" he asked, grabbing Josh's shoulder. His blonde companion was catching his breath, so James (_In a still out of breath voice_) answered for him.

"You guys've _**GOTTA**_ come see the biggest pile of bullshit ever," he wheezed, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. Luke and Chaz looked confused, then jogged along behind Josh and James as they headed towards the room where the meeting was supposedly happening. What kind of bullshit warranted that much running? A fight? Declaration of war?

Minutes later, they knew what James meant by 'bullshit'.

Dead center of the room, Jack was hugging Noire, _she was actually reciprocating the hug_, Vert was hugging Jack's back, Neptune was sitting on Jack's shoulders, Blanc was holding Jack's arm with a tiny hand because she couldn't hug anywhere else, Rom and Ram were hugging Blanc, and Uni was inbetween Noire and Jack with an adorable look of utter bliss on her face. Jack, meanwhile, had a blank expression suggesting he had no fucking clue what had happened or why it had escalated that far from him and Noire confirming that they no longer hated each other.

And yet, despite this, he found everyone's attention had lapsed for just long enough that he could shoot his four allies a smug grin and give them the finger.


	21. More Filler Than a Badly Maintained Wall

After he'd visited MAGES. and Tekken to pick up the chainsaw he'd left behind, Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that MAGES. was heading off to Planeptune for a few days once more, during which time he would be staying with Compa anyway. So, since Tekken was busy running the shop, Jack and MAGES. decided to go and get lunch before he headed out for some Guild work. The café they'd chosen was fairly average; Outdoor seating options weren't a popular choice for any business in Lowee, so instead, the wizard and shooter decided to sit at the very back of the rather empty café.

And, for the first time in a while, Jack took off his bandolier, and removed his green overshirt and body armour, placing them on the back of his chair and leaving him with just his black t-shirt. MAGES. raised her eyebrow in what seemed to be curiosity. "I haven't seen you without that equipment before," she noted as Jack sat back down, clicking his back slightly to alleviate the pain. "Is there a particular reason why you've opted to take off your upper body equipment?"

"Outside of it gettin' more annoyin' the longer I wear it?" he asked. MAGES. nodded. "Then nah, no reason. I've worn it non-stop for the past few weeks." Briefly, he paused, and looked at his frayed, burned, and blood-stained shirt. "Fuck, I might need a new one of these soon." MAGES. nodded quietly, reclining in her chair slightly as she removed her hat and placed it on the table. Then, she removed her coat, leaving just her black shirt and red tie. Jack raised a brow. "Any reason you're strippin' off?" he asked as his companion placed her coat on the back of her chair, similar to how he did.

"Outside of it being warmer in here?" she asked. Jack nodded. "Then no, there is no reason." Jack tilted his head understandingly.

"Fair enough..." he whistled, drumming the table with his fingertips and reclining slightly. "Anyway, cheers for holdin' onto the Universal Communicator whilst I was away."

"Universal Communicator?" MAGES. repeated, looking at him in confusion.

Jack thought for a minute. "The Ash Williams Special?"

"...no, I'm unclear."

"Groovy?"

"You're not making any sense."

"The Obscure Movie Reference?" Jack groaned, gesturing slightly. MAGES. just slowly shook her head. Sighing again, Jack lifted his head up. "Chainsaw." MAGES. nodded in understanding.

"Of course...you could have said that."

"You could have understood the names for it..." he muttered huffily. MAGES. shrugged, and sipped her coffee.

"Well, there doesn't happen to be names for it. That mostly stems from the fact nobody has ever bothered to try and use it as a method of attacking an opponent." Jack was surprised.

"Really? It's literally the most iconic weapon from _any_ horror or action franchise, not counting miniguns or meat cleavers." His blue-haired friend paused with her cup in front of her mouth, raising a brow.

"A minigun is the one with the rotating barrels, correct?" she asked, gesturing with her left finger. Jack gave a nod, so MAGES. raised a thumb and had some more of her drink. When she had finished, neither spoke for some reason. Perhaps it had been a waste of time to go to the café...?

Just then, Jack's phone chirped, prompting him to look at his pocket. MAGES., just as unsure as Jack was, looked as well. "I thought I threw this piece of shit away when I was in Leanbox?" he said confusedly, pulling out the pink object. "Whatever, I'm not complainin'." After a moment, of looking at the screen, he chuckled, then turned the screen to show MAGES. the message that had come through.

_** ChikaHakozaki**_** commented on your Nepchat post!**

_'__** TheTwatWithTheGats**__ thats it im going to fucking rape you and then kill you for that you little shit sleep with a fucking eye open or ill make the rape hurt more than the killing'_

MAGES. studied this for a moment, frowning. "Is...Chika Hakozaki not the Oracle of Leanbox?" she asked. Jack nodded, smirking and turning his phone back to face him. "She has quite the mouth," she murmured, scratching her chin. "To be frank, I'm quite surprised." She paused, and looked at him. "If I may ask, what did you post?" Jack smiled, then tapped onto his story.

"This was my Nepchat story from yesterday," he explained, showing her the phone. MAGES. leaned forward with a studying expression as he tapped through the pictures.

First, there was a photograph of the four CPUs around a table, with Jack and Neptune taking a cheerful selfie whilst everyone else looked frustratedly at them. The caption through the center read _'sick bants w/ the lads'_.

Next, there was a brief video. It displayed Vert and Blanc next to each other, seemingly having the meeting. Neptune's voice could be heard off screen, but barely.

"_...and so that means I can only hope that our development projects don't fall flatter than Blanc's chest._"

The small CPU next to Vert grit her teeth. Vert herself, though, smirked, and chuckling could be heard behind camera.

_"It would take a frankly COLOSSAL failure to become that flat,_" replied Vert. The video ended as Blanc opened her mouth and began screaming "**YOU COW-TITTED FUCKING-**", accompanied by laughter and the caption '_vert drops some solid banter_'.

After that came a super-zoomed in picture of Oracle Nishizawa with a less than flattering expression, likely due to her being in the process of speaking, captioned as _'bare clapped'._

Following on, Jack had taken the liberty of photographing what she assumed was all of the guards in the basilicom in a long series of photos, each captioned as '_absolute butters_'.

Moving on, there was a clip of a first person view of Jack walking steadily up to an angry Elemental Dragon and one-handedly firing a pistol at it. To her surprise, the shakily recorded video showed the Dragon not only reacting to the shots, but staggering back in pain and seeming to be in the process of beginning to fall over and die when the clip ended. The caption simply read **'**_**step the fuck up or get smashed the fuck up, son'.**_ It was at this point she noticed just how many people were looking at his Nepchat; The Dragon post alone had over 100,000 Nepu Points, and 40,000 Comments. The top comment was from someone called _** TinyBookFairy**_, and it told Jack to "_wipe those fuckers off the face of Gamindustri! ;D"._ For some reason, she felt like the person behind that comment was not like that outside of the internet, and was just saying that because they were almost anonymous.

How was this garbage getting positive feedback?

Her frown intensified as the posts continued. Such content included:

\- A video of Jack and two other individuals she hadn't seen before sat on a balcony, before the camera panned to Mr. Hillman, who had two massive bullets dangling from his nose. Caption: **'**_**he knows what he's doing, i swear'.**_Top comment was from _** ChazzaThePilot**_, and said "_pretty sure he's welsh, he can't know what he's doing_".

\- Several pictures of Blanc reading what looked like a novel in a room full of books. The tears in her eyes gave away that it was likely at a sad part. Caption: _'__**when ur readin ur shitty romance novels and u realize that a fictional character has bigger boobs than u**__'_. The top comment was from _** OfficialBlannyBlannyBii**_, and said "_I swear, one day, I'm going to hit your head with a hammer so hard that it'll come out of your ass._"

\- A cute photo of the CPU candidate for Lastation, sleeping on a sofa in front of a TV whilst spooning a massive machine gun that was about the same size as her. Caption: _**'Uni a cute**__'_. The top comment was from _** StopCallingMePikey**_, and said "_shame that your still a bellend m8"_.

\- A picture of a blonde man with glasses sat at a table talking to CPU Black Heart, both with glasses of champagne. The blonde man was showing Black Heart something in a fashion magazine, and both were laughing. Caption: _**'not gonna lie but one of these two is pretty fucken gay'**_. Top comment came from _** PuddingAndPlasters**_, saying "_i swear you find these weird looking cunts in the fucking street, mr lunnydunny_".

**-** A selfie of Jack being hugged from behind by Lady Vert, with Jack in the foreground looking rather scared. Caption: _**'pls no'**_. The top comment was already the one from _** ChikaHakozaki**_, with the one beneath from _** OfficialLadyGreenHeart**_ saying "_** TheTwatWithTheGats **__It's OK...you know you secretly enjoyed the warmth. We can hug any time!"_

Shaking her head and wondering why she was doing it, MAGES. withdrew her own phone.

"What's your Nepchat name?"

_**A few hours later...**_

As per the usual, the dinner table was fairly quiet. That was almost expected. Allegedly, that was just how politics went; No matter how well a meeting had gone, or how many lives you'd saved or deals you'd made, by the end of it, you were already sick of speaking to the other parties for the day. Since the CPUs had been talking to each other since nine in the morning, it was understandable that none of them were speaking to each other, instead opting to just silently eat what Jack assumed was some unusual type of pasta. Jack sniffed, shovelling some of the food into his mouth. Whilst he wasn't one to like pasta (_Or pizza, or lasagne, or meatballs, or Bolognese..._), he decided that it was probably in his best options. Whilst he was with MAGES., they'd only picked up a sandwich each, and to put his size into consideration, that was hardly filling for him.

All things considered, he hadn't eaten a proper meal for about three or four days, mostly just eating every so often and inbetween Quest work.

Speaking of work, he raised his head up. "You guys thinkin' that us lads ought to find proper jobs?" he asked, turning his head up to the end of the table that the CPUs resided at. Most of the eyes present turned to him, as well as a pilot's visor. Neptune shrugged.

"I dunno. Why the ask?" she replied, swinging on her chair slightly. "You runnin' low on funds, Lundy?"

"Not particularly," he said calmly, scratching his chin. "Still bankin' in at about six hundred thousand credits from Guild work and the sh..." He glanced over at Mina and James, who were both poised and ready to cover Rom and Ram's ears. "...ugar...that monsters drop. Those freaks drop about a ffffffff...udgin'...thousand credits each time." Noire, Blanc, Neptune, Luke, Josh, James, Vert, Uni, and Mina all chuckled at the fact Jack genuinely looked pained whilst trying not to swear. Whilst the others around the table contemplated exactly how terrifying it was for a near-psychotic individual like Jack to have access to such funds, Vert looked at him in an assessing manner, twirling her fork around her finger whilst resting her chin on the back of her hand.

"Well, you seem to be pretty well-off," she noted, before gesturing to the other humans. "Much better off than the other boys, at least. Goodness knows what Chaz does with his money." The pilot swiftly raised his hand.

"One time, I sent money to Piers Morgan and told him to buy a rope and kill himself." Noire frowned at the comment, and looked at him.

"Well...did he?"

"Unfortunately not," Josh sighed. "But good on you for trying, Chaz." The airman shrugged, and leaned back in his chair, somehow remaining perfectly balanced whilst sitting cross-legged.

"Still sucks that I basically sent him a fiver, though..."

"Anyway, that being said," Vert continued, "What are you going to do with your money? As mentioned, we would be more than happy to host you in the Leanbox basilicom so long as you pulled your weight around the country. You seem comfortable enough doing that, and we all like you enough, so I see no reason why you should stop staying with us for now." Jack glanced over at Noire, who was looking at him in a way that suggested she was thinking of something else. Jack swallowed hard, and glanced at Luke, Josh, James, and Chaz.

"A-Actually, Lady Vert..." he interrupted. The CPUs turned and looked at him, Noire with a smile on her face. "Do...do you happen to know the going rate of the average house in Gamindustri?" A small rustle went through the room. The CPUs, however, suddenly seemed more tense.

"...and where might it be that you want to..._settle_?" Noire asked carefully. She looked pained from the rather creepy grin that had set in across her face. Jack scratched the back of his head.

"I, uh, don't particularly mind," he whistled, "Just needs to be big enough to house five large individuals." He looked at James, Luke, Josh, and Chaz, smirking. James was quick to clear his throat.

"Uh...I appreciate the offer," he began, "But I'd rather just help around 'ere, to be honest. Oracle Nishizawa could probably do with an extra set of 'ands, and all." Following in James' footsteps, Josh and Luke quickly thought of an excuse.

"W-Well, yeah, same here," Luke stuttered, "But, uh, we can probably get the...um, like, scientist blokes to send us a caravan, or...something. It's a cool offer, though...trust." Jack rolled his eyes, and looked at Chaz.

"Lemme guess, you live in a private jet."

"Nah," Chaz whistled through his mask, which was miraculously clear of any of the meal he had somehow eaten whilst wearing the face mask. "If we both pay half the bills each, then I'd be alright with it." Jack grinned, and nodded, then turned to the CPUs.

"So...where could I get a two bedroom house for a decent price, including gas and electricity?" Noire's hand quickly shot up.

"Lastation has both of those free for all citizens," she replied in an uncharacteristically excited tone, "So you could totally move into one of the houses opposite the basilicom that you can see from my office balcony!" For a moment, she realized what she'd just said, and cleared her throat, taking on a more serious facial expression that was tainted with the crimson glow of embarrassment which seemingly everyone except Jack noticed. "Y-You know, because those are reasonably priced houses! An-And I'll be able to contact you easily if any emergencies come up! That's all!" The green-shirted bloke smiled at the offer, thinking it over.

"How much's the cheapest?" Jack asked.

"The going price for one of them was about...uh, four hundred thousand credits." Jack gave a casual nod.

"Fair," he murmured, scratching his chin. "Leaves about two hundred grand to buy furniture and stuff. I say we buy gunsmithing equipment."

"I see no problems with the legality of that," Chaz shrugged.

Neptune simply smiled at Noire, looking between her and Jack. "Aww, now you two lovebirds don't have to be apart from each other!" Noire blushed furiously as everyone began laughing, and Jack said nothing, instead glaring ahead with the _**Thousand-Yard London Stare Of Utter Disappointment With Society™**_ that he had perfected so well over the course of the months before. Josh smiled, and looked over to Neptune.

"You have a point, those two seem to be inseparable after that argument!" he laughed. Jack laughed along, pointing at him with a wagging finger.

"Oh, you!" he chortled, before suddenly his face became deathly serious. "**I think you should start sleepin' with a weapon.**" Josh just folded his arms and raised a brow.

"Ohhh, _scary_," he replied mockingly. "What're you gonna do? Kill me?" Jack grinned, and looked at Mina and James.

"Cover Rom and Ram's ears," he ordered. When he was certain that the kids couldn't hear (_Uni had put her headphones in by this point, since she valued her pure maiden mind_), Jack looked at the CPUs' end of the table. "If you ladies don't mind, I'm just gonna vent for a bit. Might make some of you uncomfortable, so if you don't like graphic descriptions, you'll probably wanna leave." Neptune made a '_pfft_' noise, before reclining and placing both her feet on the table and hands behind her head.

"Nah, I think we can take it," she whistled, giving the universal 'go for it' gesture. "We're all CPUs, we can take a little gore." Jack paused, shrugged, and turned to Josh.

"Alright, posh boy. Here's _exactly_ what I'm gonna do about that smug little comment. One night, the night you'll least expect, I'm gonna go into your room, and I'm gonna carve an intricate pattern into your tongue, before ripping it out. After I ram a copious amount of glass shards into your anal cavity, I'll sew your disembodied tongue into your raw, bloodied, and gapin' arsehole so you forever get to feel it squirmin' and tryin' to scream." Jack's face remained alarmingly pleasant as he stared at Josh. "After that, I'll peel off all of your skin with a rusty scalpel, then use the flesh as fabric with which I'll make a nice pair of gloves, usin' your veins and tendons as thread whilst it's all still attached to your body. With those gloves, I'll begin snappin' all your bones individually, as slowly and painfully as I can, before finishin' by takin' a power drill to your teeth and grindin' a letter of my name into each individual tooth. Finally, I'll rip out those teeth with a wrench and string them together as a nice little necklace to hang around your neck, so that people can see the author's name as they view the work." Jack paused, thinking for a moment, before looking back at Josh. "_Then_ I'll let you die."

By the time he was done, the room had fallen into dead silence. Most of the room's Gamindustrian residents, excluding Noire, Rom, Ram, and Uni, had gone pale white. Noire just sighed, and rubbed her forehead. "Mr. Lovebun," she groaned, "When was the last time you slept?"

"Properly? As in, for more than an hour?" he asked. She nodded, prompting him to think for a minute. "...I can't remember when I got choked out by Cave, so that might have been longer than hour." Vert raised a hand, regaining some composure.

"That was still only a few hours," she noted. Her face was still a pale grey. "I don't think you've slept longer than that in the entire time you've been here." Jack raised his brows, twirling his fork between his fingers. Mina and James had returned to their seats, and Uni had removed her headphones to listen to the conversation.

"You have a point," Blanc nodded. "Even Mr. Hillman sleeps for a regular amount of time. You seem to power nap and then continue."

"Maybe that's why you've been so emotional lately..." Noire suggested, prompting a loud snort of disapproval from Jack.

"And you're someone to tell someone else about them being 'emotional'?" he asked snarkily, folding his arms. The other CPUs giggled slightly as Noire looked back at him with a rather upset expression.

"Hey, remember what we agreed upon yesterday?" she whined. Jack paused, then nodded understandingly, raising his hand apologetically.

"Right...sorry."

Neptune just grinned, leaning on the table with a smug expression on her face. "Did you two agree that you were...?"

"**NO.**" came Noire's angry response.

"**For the love of GODDESS, NEPTUNE!**" yelled Jack irritatedly. The lavender-haired teenager grinned and leaned back in her seat, checking her nails.

"I think we all know which Goddess _you_ love..." she chirped. Noire was sat, blushing furiously in her chair with a huffy expression.

"CPU or not, I'll bash your head open if you keep this up," snapped the man. "And yes, I support the CPUs, but as a Lastation citizen, part of my citizenship documents specify that I need to place belief in Lady Noire, who actually does great things for Lastation. So in that sense, yes, I 'love' Noire." Before the conversation could take an intelligent turn, during which politics, Shares, and the next day's activities would be discussed, Neptune fell from her seat, giggling loudly.

"HE SAID IT!" she screeched, clutching her stomach and waving her legs around. "HE ACTUALLY SAID IT! THE ABSOLUTE MADMAN! I KNEW HE HAD A THING FOR NO-FRIENDS NOIRE!"

Jack groaned, and rubbed his face with both hands. "Bloody hell..." he muttered. Just then, there was a tugging on his arm, prompting him to look. "Hi, Uni."

Staring back was his favourite person ever, Uni. She had a small smile on her face, almost bashful in nature. "M-Mr. Lovebun...Do...do you really love my sister?" she asked, before suddenly perking up. "Are you gonna become my older brother?!" The excitement was noticeable in her voice. "Th-That'd be great! I'd have an older sister, _**and**_ an older brother, and I'd be like the luckiest person in the _whole_ of Gamindustri!"

Jack wasn't particularly sure how he could weasel out of this conversation without upsetting the girl who he felt was _basically_ his little sister, considering how much he hung out with her. So...in the event that somehow he _did_ end up marrying Noire (_God forbid_), would Uni be his little sister? Like...sister in-law, or something?

He wasn't sure how that stuff worked.

Ignoring the brief mental image of Noire in a skimpy wedding dress that flashed through his mind, Jack offered Uni a smile, and nothing else. It seemed to satisfy her, as she sat in her seat, completely elated by the thought of having two older siblings. Then, he put phase two of his brilliant plan into action. "SOOOOOOO!" he began, rubbing his hands together and looking back at the CPUs. "All that aside, why were you askin' how long I'd slept for normally? Is that a big deal? Can we discuss this in more detail to avoid the previous conversation?" Vert giggled lightly, then nodded.

"Of course, Mr. Glovebox," she smiled. "It's worrying that you haven't slept properly in such a long time. Normally, I stay up for days at a time whilst I..." She paused. "..._file papers_..., but I'll normally balance it out by sleeping for about half a day, or taking a day off to go out and relax."

"No." Jack said flatly.

"No? Whatever do you mean?"

"No. I'm not relaxin' for a whole day. You can sod that."

"Don't tell us you have had bad experiences with relaxing." Blanc interjected. Briefly, there was an interruption from Luke.

"Uh, Ladies?" he asked, raising a hand. "Are we needed here? This is a bit boring, I'll be honest with you."

"Have you been sleeping properly?" Vert asked. Luke nodded.

"In the Challenger, six to eight hours a night. Why?"

"Then you're free to go." Luke raised his brows, and got up to leave, gesturing to the other guys to follow. Along with them, Mina guided Rom and Ram from the table. It was, after all, their bedtime. Whilst they all shuffled away, Jack folded his arms again and leaned onto the table.

"So...was that last question about havin' bad experiences relaxin'?" Jack asked. Blanc looked back at him, nodding slightly, which prompted the large gunman to scratch his chin. For some reason, he looked rather troubled. "Last time I did anythin' that was meant to be 'relaxin'', I went to a spa in Planeptune, and I got told the spa would be empty for the night, and then I was naked, and then Cave came in, and she was naked too, and I started panickin' because _I don't like bein' naked around other people_! Especially girls!" His voice gradually increased in intensity as he spoke, suggesting that it was a rather sensitive topic. Vert forced a smile, and cleared her throat.

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Glovebox, when..." she began, eyeing him up and down. "...when was the last time you cleaned yourself?" He raised a brow.

"What're you gettin' at, Lady Vert? I smell like shite and dead things, again?"

"And human blood," Noire added calmly, raising a hand. Jack gave a gesture towards her.

"Yeah, and that. Do I smell dodgy?" Pausing, he lifted his shirt slightly, and looked at what little flesh he could see beneath an armour carrier. Caked across the skin beneath the ballistic vest was a layer of crackled, dry blood, some areas darker than others. It all seemed to originate from beneath his vest, but he hadn't noticed any pain...

What the hell?

He raised his brows in surprise. "Christ, that doesn't look good, now you mention it," he said finally, whistling through his teeth and gesturing to his chest, letting his shirt go back to where it was as he did. "Lotta blood under there. I should probably take care of that." Most of the CPUs (_excluding Neptune, since she hardly gave two shits_) looked concernedly at him.

"Would you like me to give you some Reflex?" Blanc suggested. Jack shook his head.

"Nah, you're alright, Lady Blanc," came the expected dismissive but polite reply. "I trained for a year to deal with this sort of shite. I could stitch myself back together with some vines and a pen, if I wanted to. And I didn't want to, so the trainers made me do it, once." Jack hesitated suddenly, looking at the scar on his inner right forearm and flexing his hand. "That shit really _did_ hurt." Blanc nodded in understanding, but still had some concern for his wellbeing. "Anyway, why's sleepin' even a concern to me? I've managed to get by on an hour of sleep every three days. Feels like if I bugger up that cycle, I might never be able to do that again."

"But sleeping for only one hour's not a good thing, Mr. Lovebun," Noire interjected. "Even if I'm up doing paperwork for three or four days at a time, I take time off every day to get rest. You're working yourself to the bone, and for...what? Why're you working so hard?"

Jack looked at her, seemingly confused. "Well, because...you all told me to when this all started?" Blank stares were his response.

"We never said that you needed to work **ALL** day and **ALL** night!" Neptune exclaimed, throwing her arms wide. "I mean, Histoire absolutely _**loved**_ that you did everything she asked when you were in Planeptune. I think she even framed a photo of you in her room that says "_The Only One Who Understands Me_", or something. You're like her favourite person ever, maybe second to an audio book she seems fond of listening to...but whatever."

"You said I need to pull my weight around Gamindustri," Jack replied. "Plus, you said you have a monster problem, and I want to help solve it."

"They spawn infinitely," Blanc interrupted, raising a small hand. "You're just wasting your time."

Jack thought for a moment. "Well, maybe they do spawn infinitely. Frankly, I'm glad, because it means I won't get credited with forcin' a mass extinction of several species."

"I think wiping them out would make you quite famous, though," Vert explained. "Leanbox still has the legendary Expert Commander, an experimental cyborg who single-handedly defeated an alliance of monsters that had been burning Leanbox towns because of a 'religion' they all believed in, or something. He's quite famous, though I think his recent escapades have been a bit difficult to support since he began reporting to a different General. Additionally, he's been looking a lot less youthful under all the armour due to the stress."

"Your point bein', Lady Vert?"

"My point is that whilst doing such a feat as destroying a hostile species would make you an instant celebrity, your body will start struggling if you don't slow down a little."

"I don't like slowin' down. I've never chosen to move slow, since I'm capable of movin' so fast."

"It's not like we want you to keep looking young and handsome or anything," Noire responded sharply, almost glaring at him, "But even from over here I can see the areas under your eyes are absorbing light, they're so dark. Plus, recently, you've been a bit..." She paused, searching for the right word. "..._emotional_."

Jack glared sharply at her, gritting his teeth. "No, I've fuckin' well no-!"

"Really?" Blanc cut in. "I heard you started crying the other day and fell to your knees."

Neptune nodded. "Yep! And then we all walked in on you and Noire!~~"

"**Shut up.**" came the unanimous reply of two individuals.

"And then, of course, we have countless other actions that point to you starting to go a bit looney," Vert added, "For example, I remember that you so coldly kneecapped Mr. Chaz, threatened Mr. Monoplie in such a way that this story probably just ended up on an NSA watchlist, broke Mr. Black's nose on a table for making a joke, stabbed a man through the face, cut through someone else's jugular vein with a machete, gunned down four others, punched an Ancient Dragon to death and recorded it, and you've been _considerably_ more irritable as your time her has progressed, just to name a few things."

Jack just looked frustratedly back at her, then folded his arms, huffing angrily. Uni looked at this quite worriedly. In the silence that followed, Vert moved seats, to sit in front of him, then extended a hand. Jack looked cautiously at it, then at Vert's smile that carried a genuine, almost maternal warmth.

"Please," said the CPU in an incredibly calming manner, "For your sake, and our sakes, please, Mr. Glovebox...calm it down a bit, OK? Just take the next few days off. That's all I ask." After a moment of consideration in which he assessed Vert's intentions but found no ulterior motives, Jack sighed, rubbed his face, then leaned forward, shaking her hand. Once again, his hand dwarfed hers, and she felt a strange sense of panic.

'_Where's my hand gone?! He's crushed it!_'

"Alright..." Jack muttered, releasing his grip and leaning back again. Vert sat back down in the seat, continuing to smile at him. The other CPUs did the same. It was almost unnerving. He glanced at each of them, then shook his head. "...what'm I...uh...meant to be doin', then...?" Vert gestured in a rather open way.

"Whatever it is that you do to relax, Mr. Glovebox."

Jack thought for a minute.

Then a bit longer.

Shit...he didn't know _how_ to relax.

Maybe...huh.

He frowned, then looked up at Vert, who remained with the same, pleasant expression she had a moment before. "I can't remember how to relax," he said flatly.

Vert facepalmed. "_Goodness me..._" she groaned.

"Do...you suggest I go and fight a-?"

"No, you're not going out to fight monsters," Noire snapped, "You're going to spend the next few days relaxing." Jack stared blankly at her. "As in, _doing no work_." More blank staring. "_No fighting_." Slowly, Jack began to shake his head.

"I don't...I don't get the joke..." he murmured, scratching his head. Noire stared flatly at him, with her look of _**You're a Fucking Idiot™.**_

"Just go to bed."

"No."

"Mr. Lovebun, we've already said you're probably very tired-"

"I ain't."

Noire glared at him, gripping the table. "You either go to bed, or I'm gonna..." She paused. Dammit. They were friends now. What could she do? Sighing, she sat down again just as Uni raised a hand.

"Lady Blanc, is the fireplace in that guest room still lit?" she asked. Blanc nodded, which summoned a smile from the CPU candidate, who stood and began tugging at Jack's arm. "Hey! Mr. Lovebun! Come on, I know where we'll be able to sleep together!"

As the younger Lastation sister dragged the hulking man out of the room, Neptune, Noire, Vert, and Blanc all stared in absolute disbelief at what the younger girl had just suggested. After a moment, Neptune placed a hand on Noire's shoulder. "Well, that's definitely a bump in you and Mr. Loondumb's relationsh-"

"**NEPTUNE.** **SHUT. THE HELL. UP.**"


	22. BONUS: Jack and Uni have a night of hugs

Since nothing was exploding, nobody was dying, there were no gunfights, and no banterific banter, Jack wasn't particularly sure what he was supposed to do in this situation.

Uni had led him to one of the small living rooms in Lowee's basilicom, where the curtains were closed, there was a sofa in front of a fireplace, and a coffee table in between. That was it. The room was vastly different from most of the Lowee basilicom's rooms, since it actually looked more like one of the Leanbox basilicom's rooms, so Jack felt slightly more comfortable at the fact the floor wasn't made of ice. The small girl had pulled him in, closed the door, and left, before returning a few minutes later wearing a black pair of button up pajamas and carrying a white blanket. Then, when they both stood in front of the fireplace, Uni cleared her throat.

"Take your armour off, Mr. Lovebun," she demanded, putting on a serious face that still had a smile. Jack raised a brow.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. I'm gonna help you get some sleep."

Jack was now concerned. What the hell was she implying they were supposed to do? For a moment, he looked down at her, trying to assess whether her motives were legal or not, before he finally sighed and undid the straps on his forearm and shin ballistic plates, placing each part on the coffee table. Uni nodded.

"Good. And now put your disk on the table."

Jack hesitated. Why would he let his guns sit alone all night? What if they became scared?

He then considered that he had just personified some firearms. He really _did_ need to get sleep. Begrudgingly, he unclipped the disk holder from his belt, and placed that inbetween his ballistic plates.

"And lastly, your bandolier."

That one, Jack really didn't like. But seeing as he'd gone that far, he felt like stopping would be weird. He slowly removed the leather straps, placing them in a messy pile near the armour. Uni looked him up and down, assessing him with her hands on her hips and a focused expression. After some observing, she let out a satisfied '_Mm-hmm!_' and straightened up. Then, she gestured to the couch. "Go lie down there."

Jack shrugged slowly, then began to lie himself down. "O...K...?" he responded worriedly, resting his head on a cushion. "Uni, what're you plannin'?" As if to respond, the young girl darted out of view, before returning and throwing a large white woolen blanket over him. He wasn't sure why he didn't just go to his own bed, but the chair was pretty comfy..._and_ warm. He looked himself over. "Right...I've done this before, how's this helpin'?" Uni grinned, and moved towards him, before lifting up the blanket and, to Jack's surprise, crawled underneath it. She disappeared for a moment, before suddenly her beaming, adorable little face popped up in front of him, and she wrapped her arms around his torso.

For lack of a better description, Jack was quite frankly 'fucking alarmed'.

Why was Uni hugging him under a warm blanket?

Was he supposed to hug her back?

Was this even _legal_?

He swallowed hard, looking back at her with concern. "...Uni, what is this?" he asked cautiously. And as per her usual response, Uni smiled, shifting about a bit so she could be closer to him.

"Snuggles," came her one word reply. It sounded like a whisper. Why was she whispering? And what the hell was a 'snuggles'?

"What's a snuggles?" Jack enquired.

"You hug me, I hug you," replied the younger girl, before her face went slightly red. "I...I did it with Noire once...it was nice."

"Is it a sexual thing?"

"W-What? No...no, it isn't."

"Then I'm fine with it. What does this accomplish?"

Uni thought for a minute how she could explain the concept of snuggling under a warm blanket on a snowy day in front of a fireplace to someone who had literally killed six people and regularly posted pictures of brutally beaten monsters onto Nepchat with the caption _**'get shit on, you fucking wankstain'**_. Finally, she made a decision on how to explain it.

"Think of it like a hug."

"A hug? I know, you're huggin' me. What of it?"

"Hug me." Without hesitation, Jack did so; He wrapped his arms around the smaller girl's torso, prompting her to smile and emit a quiet sigh of content. "There. Some of the books I read said that if people hug something in a warm bed whilst they're tired, they'll sleep better. You haven't slept properly for...how long, Mr. Lovebun?"

"What day is it today?"

"...tuesday...?"

"Then I haven't properly slept in thirteen months, three weeks, five days, and fifteen hours." Uni whistled slightly.

"Well, this'll be a milestone then," she giggled, pushing her head into his chest. There was momentary silence between the two. Jack remained confused, looking around the well-decorated room to see if there was some deeper meaning that was meant to be jumping out at him. The CPU candidate in his arms, however, let out a yawn. "Just...go to sleep, Mr. Lovebun..."

"I still don't get why I have to do this..." muttered the shooter in response, moving Uni closer to him. It was as she was within perfect snuggling distance that Jack began to notice things about Uni that he'd never noticed before. For instance, she smelled a _lot_ like the gun cleaning solution that he'd used practically every day on his training. She also weighed next to nothing for him; Perhaps that was just because he'd been levelling like a mad cunt those past few weeks and he was proper ripped in the muscle department.

And, as ever, she was small, soft, and cute as a button that would launch a hundred missiles at China and trigger a nuclear holocaust.

For a moment, he considered these things.

Not only was Uni absolutely _great_, but she was probably the single most adorable thing he had ever come into contact with. The two had already developed an older-brother-younger-sister relationship, just like Uni had been so excited about at the dinner table: If anyone was dumb enough to try hurting her, Jack couldn't even _begin_ to fathom the horrifying acts of violence he would carry out against her opponents to make sure that she was OK.

He lay like this for ten minutes. Perhaps longer. He lost track of time just thinking about why he liked Uni so much. Of course, there was the reason that he wanted to try having a younger sister again, but there were so many more, too. Adorable, liked guns, was actually happy to see him, and had a bit of a dark sense of humour, when she wanted to make jokes. Frankly, he'd been surprised when she made a joke about how burned Dogoos _**'remind her of that stuff that comes off marshmallows when you cook them for too long, except she doesn't laugh hysterically at marshmallows when they scream'**_.

Perhaps he just saw himself in the little CPU.

Just then, Uni shifted, moving closer to him whilst she slept. In her sleeping state, she slowly wrapped her legs around one of Jack's, then moved her left arm from under him, pushed it up to her chest, and between them. Jack smiled as Uni let out another adorable yawn, placing her head on his neck. Before he could dismiss it as night shuffles, Uni inhaled gently, smiling and going slightly red-faced despite still being asleep.

What she said next nearly prompted Jack to cry.

"..._I...I love you...big bro..._" came her whispering voice, fading into breath but still remaining clear in his head.

She was either dreaming of someone else (_X - Doubt_), or him. And if she was dreaming of him, that meant...she saw him as an older brother.

He was succeeding.

Closing his eyes willingly, Jack slightly tightened the snuggle with Uni, before curling up slightly. God, it was cosy. Not that he was complaining, of course. You could never complain about Uni. And this...'snuggling'...

...he actually rather liked it. It was relaxing: A feeling that he hadn't experienced in a _very_ long time.

Sighing contentedly, he kept his eyes closed, and allowed the warm embrace of a proper sleep to overtake him.

And that was the night that Jack London slept with Uni.


	23. Day of Rest

It hadn't particularly taken long for Jack to get bored on his day off: After awakening at six o' clock after a nine hour sleep (_Nine times longer than he had been able to have for over a year_), he ended up lying next to Uni for about half an hour until she woke up of her own volition. The next fifteen minutes saw the two of them lying awake next to each other and hugging for warmth, as the fire had gone out and the room was fucking cold. The five minutes after that saw Uni and Jack struggle to pull themselves from underneath the warmth of the blanket, and the next ten had them getting ready for the day.

At seven o' clock, Jack left the room, and made his way over to the room where Josh and Luke were sleeping in beds across from each other. The moment it hit five minutes past seven, Jack kicked the door down, punched Luke in the face, and stole some of his grenades from the bedside table. In the ensuing panic of yelling swear words, Jack ran out of the room with a looting of two flashbang grenades, a couple of smoke grenades, and a bunch of cigarettes. He spent the next half an hour wandering the halls, before stopping for a somewhat pleasant discussion with Oracle Nishizawa over the nuances of unusual clothing in Lowee. She had some complaints over her choice of uniform for her duties, but seemed more concerned over Jack being in short-sleeves with only body armour to protect his otherwise bare forearms from the biting winds. After a few theories as to why he wasn't cold, he put it down to just "_I'm Scottish_" and left it at that.

Ten minutes later, he met back up with Uni and they sat down for breakfast. Noire, being an early riser, was next to arrive, and the 'Lastation Trio' were, for the first time, able to have a 'family' conversation. Family is loosely used in that context, as Jack was sort of just the big brother that showed up one day and committed genocide alongside the youngest sister, but whatever. "Good morning, you two," greeted the CPU, looking completely neutrally at her sister and enforcer. "I trust you...slept well?" Jack nodded.

"Aye, best sleep I've had in years," he replied, leaning in his chair to click his back whilst looking over at Uni. "First time I've ever slept next to anyone, too." The CPU Candidate smiled at him.

"Once you get over the smell of blood and dead things, Mr. Lovebun is just a big softy," she giggled. Jack dismissed her with a roll of his eyes, accompanied by a smile as he continued eating. She looked back to Noire, who was still remaining neutral. It was almost disturbing: Jack thought she was pissed off about it. "He's like a giant hug pillow, but he's warm, and mutters in his sleep a lot." Noire nodded slowly.

"Mm," came her near silent reply. "_Mm._" As Jack watched, he saw a smile begin to curl at the edges of her mouth, which caused him some concern. He raised a brow.

"What're you smirkin' at?" he asked. Noire shook her head innocently.

"Oh, nothing," she whistled, withdrawing her phone. _Uh oh._ "Just remembering a picture I saw circling on Neppit." The Englishman stared flatly towards her, and had an accompanying response from Uni, too.

"...dare I ask what that picture is?"

Noire flashed a grin, and rotated her small phone to face Uni and Jack. "Just a little..." Noire searched for the right words as Jack and Uni began to look a little bit more sad than they did a moment before. "..._leverage_, shall we say?"

The picture in question was not going to do wonders for Jack's public image, and it made Uni look slightly worse; Under the title of '_Yeah, sure, he's TOTALLY hardcore..._', there was a rather well-taken image of the two spooning under the blanket. Uni was sleeping with a blissful expression on her face, resting her head on Jack's bicep like a pillow. Jack, however, had a face like Ryan Gosling's usual smile, which meant he only had the slightest expression of positivity and a very small smirk, accompanied by him gently hugging his small companion like a stuffed animal. Overall, it wasn't a particularly bad photo of the two. Rather adorable, actually.

The only problem it had was that the amount of likes it had was nearing the 300,000 mark. The top comment came from _**OfficialGreenHeart**_, asking when it would be her turn. The responses to that literally all said '_Same_', with the only difference being the usernames. They were all quite familiar to Jack, and he realized just who said it as he scrolled: _**NepuNepuBoing, ChikaHakozaki**_, _**OnlyGetHitCuzItFeelsSoGood, MaddestOfMagicians**_, _**5pbVEVO, TwoQatarsAndMyJericho**_, _**PuddingAndPlasters, TinyBookFairy**_, _**MaidToDodgeBullets, CrimsonHairedAdventurer,**_ and many more.

He frowned. "Noire, what the hell is this?" The CPU grinned even more.

"I thought you two looked pretty cute when you were all cozied up together," she replied calmly, bringing the phone back towards her. "So I decided that I'd take a picture of it and share it with the world."

"_Siiiiiiis!_" Uni cried, turning red and covering her face with her hands, before breaking off into various whining noises. Jack looked at this, then back at Noire, who was looking at the picture and grinning. _Right then...let's turn this around_.

"Why're you lookin' at the picture like that?" he asked, prompting Noire to look up at him and raise a brow.

"Like what?"

"Like that. Like you feel saddened and left out." He paused for effect, then smirked at her. "Are you _jealous_ of Uni?" Instantly, the reaction Jack expected, happened: Noire's face went crimson, and she began stuttering out a lot of responses that, for some reason, Jack actually doubted.

"N-No! Don't you dare accuse me of wanting to s-snuggle you! I've already hugged you, and you smell like dead things, and that's just weird, and even if you WERE incredibly warm and DID have a comforting hug, I would NEVER want to spend a night under a warm blanket with you! S-So there**!**"

Jack raised his brow, and leaned forward on the table, before glancing back at Uni. "You think she's jealous?" he asked.

"Perhaps," replied the younger girl with a smile. She didn't look as embarrassed, now. Noire huffed loudly.

Jack grinned, scratching his chin. "Maybe she's worried that she might have to stop and do paperwork..." Noire grit her teeth, and lunged forward suddenly, grabbing his lapels and yanking him forwards over the table. Uni let out a yelp, standing slightly.

"S-Sis!"

"**Now you listen here, pal!**" Noire snapped, forcing the large man to look at her. Jack was actually slightly terrified at the expression she was pulling. He couldn't look away from it, it was weird as fuck. "**As much as you joke about me being cold and corporate, I'm actually really warm-hearted and ENJOY snuggling with those I care about! I enjoy the close contact, and it establishes strong bonds! And I assure you that if you were to sleep with me, it'd be the best night of your LIFE!**"

"**Yeah?!**" Jack yelled back, grabbing Noire's collar. "**If you DID sleep with me, it'd be a night you'd NEVER fuckin' forget! It'd be so goddamn intimate, you'd feel like you were in HEAVEN!**" But before Noire could formulate a sharp remark, there was a cough at the door.

The two of them froze.

Uni concealed laughter.

Jack stared ahead, then released Noire's lapels. She did the same. They sat back down. After a moment of silence, Jack turned in his chair to see the other CPUs, his fellow earth men, Rom, Ram, and Mina standing at the door. Vert, Josh, and Luke had their phones raised, likely recording everything that had just been said. Neptune, however, offered a small wave, grinning like a little psychopath.

"We...heard all that." she began.

"**So we gathered.**" came the unanimous response.

"...you two, ah, discussin' your..._plans_ for Mr. Lunny's day off?"

"**No.**"

"Oh...because you two seemed to be in a _little_ bit of a heated debate about sleepin' with each other, ya know? And the mention of intermassy isn't helping you guys' case..."

"Whatever the _case_ is," Jack began, "I'm not above puttin' your feet in a concrete _case_ and throwin' you into the ocean if you don't quit it."

"Juuust sayin'!~" sang the lilac-haired CPU. Under the harsh glare of the armed Briton, she skipped over to a seat and hopped onto it, rocking back and forth idly.

Vert, however, continued to cast small smiles towards Jack and Noire as everyone sat down. "Aww," she finally tutted, still smiling at them in her usual, knowing manner. "You two certainly do get on together, now that you've sorted out your problems. Perhaps there _is_ something going on between you, that can only be solved with an eighteen-plus rated romance subplot?" Jack sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

'_Let's just get the topic changed before I have lewd thoughts about Noire._'

"Speakin' of solvin' problems between people," Jack began, sitting up, "How're the summits goin'? Any major developments?" The CPUs suddenly perked up.

"Well," Blanc replied, giving an uncharaxteristic smile, "We're coming into the final discussions next week. They're due to finish in Planeptune, and then we'll need to set up an event to commemorate the occasion." Jack grinned.

"Fan-bloody-well-tastic!" he laughed, pointing a finger at them with his thumb raised. "I suppose these meetin's really have done summat for your countries!" At this point, Josh leaned forward.

"Pardon me for asking," he interjected, raising a hand. "But what are these meetings regarding? I know it's something to do with international peace, but what's Jack got to do with it? Most of the time I just see him running around and blowing monsters up for his own sado-masochistic pleasure." Jack clenched a fist, looking at his comrade.

"I'm not a ffffff-"

His eyes darted to Rom and Ram, who were looking at him with tilted heads. Then he looked to Mina, who was leaning on the table and drumming on it with an expectant yet serious expression. Jack sighed.

"Sod it. I'm not a 'sado-masochist', Josh."

"Clearly, you are."

"Give us some evidence then, Posh Boy."

"Ah, I'd probably mention that time that IF kicked your shin for not warnin' her about Deagle recoil, and accordin' to Neptune you moaned like a cat in heat," James cut in. Jack slammed a palm on the table, glaring at James.

"Go eat a dick, James."

The Welshman raised his hands defensively. "Just sayin': If you're gonna roast someone, point the flamethrower away from yourself." The comment raised silence as Jack shook his head, leaning back in his chair. Finally, he sighed.

"OK, Josh. The entire idea of these talks between the four nations is to create a peace treaty between them."

"Right...so like the Treaty of Versailles?"

"Sort of like that, but nobody loses anything." Just then, Ram spoke up.

"What's a Treaty of...Vert's Eyes?" asked the young girl.

"_Versailles_," Jack corrected. "It was a place in a country on Earth called France, where a treaty was signed by one of the nations in World War One that forced them to do certain things: They had to say they started the war, which they didn't; They had to demilitarize themselves to hell; And just about everythin' that would insult them on a national scale was a part of the Treaty. 'course, this led to people gettin' angry, turnin' to extremist political parties, and a certain individual gettin' into power who should not have been given access to military force, but that's beside the point."

"At the moment, the treaty's focusin' on the use of military force when a nation attempts to gain Shares for the CPU." Jack reclined in his seat, checking his nails briefly as a few people looked at him in complete bewilderment that he was actually doing a good job of explaining it, and that he even knew what the treaty's terms were. "Effectively, it's similar to NATO in that if one nation is attacked, the others will join in defendin' them. It means that if, say, Vert went even more forward than she already is and tried to take down Planeptune, Lowee and Lastation'd jump in to help fight her off." Vert let out a quiet 'hmmph' and pouted slightly.

"I don't see why you would use me in the example," she whined, folding her arms under her breasts. "I would never commit to such an act as low as invading an ally. And what do you mean, 'even more forward than I already am'?"

"Maybe it's a joke about your breasts, Lady Vert," Chaz suggested. "I wouldn't be surprised, considering how Jack's sense of humour has picked up since he got some sleep." Vert smiled, reached towards him, and rubbed the top of his helmet like she was petting a dog.

"Thank you, Mr. Chaz," she beamed, patting his head, "I would be frankly lost without your input." Whilst Chaz continued looking worried behind his mask, Noire leaned forward to look at Jack.

"My biggest concern is how you know all this," she said curiously, "I thought you said you didn't want to hear about the talks unless you asked. How did you get the information about the agreed-upon terms of the treaty without asking us?" In response, the green-shirted giant threw his arms up in a shrug.

"Lady Noire," he began, "Need I remind you that I, along with the other lads, trained with a bunch of government professionals in the art of intelligence gatherin' techniques. This mission was intelligence gatherin' to begin with, and even though I sort of diverted it by creatin' diplomacy between you lot, I still remember most of the stuff I was taught. I'm like a shadow in the room, you just can't see me when you're all busy talkin'." Noire swallowed hard.

Had she _really_ not seen him in the room whilst they talked? She was losing touch.

"That," Jack continued, smiling at her reaction, "Or I just read a few documents I saw lyin' around on tables." Noire let out a breath she had no idea she was holding.

"I'm not sure whether that can count as international espionage," Blanc noted. "In Lowee, such a crime is punishable by execution." James just grinned, checking his nails.

"Gonna have to be one hell of a firin' squad to get rid of us," he laughed, patting his armour panels that were strapped all over his body. "Two-and-a-half inches of ballistic protection. This armour can stop a three-oh-eight round at point blank range. Jack and Josh, meanwhile, probably struggle to take nine millimeter."

"Makes you look fat, though," Josh retorted. "Try hiding that stuff under a coat."

"Plus, you move pretty slowly," Jack added. "And why do you need that much protection when you opted to be a designated sniper? What the hell are they gonna be shootin' back at you with; Death Stars?"

"Is that much armor really unnecessary, though?" Blanc enquired, stirring her tea. "I mean, he's still around. That speaks volumes in that it works." James extended a hand towards her, smiling and nodding appreciatively.

"See, Lady Blanc gets it."

"If that's the argument for you needin' to wrap yourself up in a Sherman tank," Jack retorted, "Then what about me?" He gestured to himself, before folding his arms and reclining slightly. "Shirt. T-Shirt. Lightweight armour. Forearm guards. Shin guards. Boots. Jeans. Bandoliers. I'm still here, too. That speaks volumes that this is clearly superior combat gear."

"Nah," Uni piped up, grinning. "You're forgetting the power of a skirt! I'm still alive, and so are Noire, Blanc, and Neptune. My clothes are great for fighting in." Jack grinned, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

"Uni, you seem to be the only one who understands me, lately," he laughed, before pausing. "Though, Chaz and Chika seem to, as well. They're both pretty questionable when it comes to humour, too." The pause continued.

"So!" Noire suddenly piped up, placing a glass on the table with sudden force, prompting a few people to recoil slightly. "It's the start of your days off, Mr. Lovebun! How are you planning to spend it?" Once he'd stopped his heart from hammering, the man cleared his throat, sitting up. The CPUs bristled with anticipation.

"Uh...probably just dick about with my guns."

The CPUs' shoulders simultaneously slumped.

"...that...that's it?" Neptune asked.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "Not like I have anythin' better to do, since you said no monster fightin'."

"Well." Vert whistled, leaning onto the table and drumming her fingers thoughtfully. "You...could..."

"...dick about with my guns." Jack finished, staring flatly at her.

"N-No...I was going to suggest video games," Vert sighed, rubbing her forehead. "They're a much better means of enjoyment than weapons."

"But I haven't played video games in about a year and a half. And I wanted to get my guns lookin' solid. Y'know...uh...um...what's it called?" He glanced over to Chaz. "Chaz, what's that called whe-"

"Polish." Chaz didn't even look at him, instead choosing to continue fishing around in his pocket for something. This didn't bother Jack, though. He had learned a new word again.

"That's the one!" he cheered, giving the pilot a thumbs up, before looking back at Vert. "Yeah. I was gonna polish my guns."

"Why do that?" she asked.

"Because I want to."

"That's...not a particularly clear answer."

"Fine. Because I want to make my guns look nice."

"Oh. Very well."

So, after a few more minutes of conversation, Jack stood, and left the breakfast hall to go find a place in which to go about making his guns all shiny. It wasn't too difficult; In spite of the normally hostile conditions outside, the sun was shining down on Lowee and causing some of the snow to melt. Thus, he stepped out onto the balcony, placed his bag down on the table, and withdrew every single gun and weapon that he had with him, neatly arranging them before him.

Normally, he was pretty OCD. He'd always put things with the labels-facing-forwards when putting stuff in a fridge. He'd always tuck his laces into his boots when he wasn't wearing them. He (_normally_) kept his clothing ironed.

But when it came to arranging lethal weapons, he was _more_ than OCD. The small arms were arranged by cartridge size; Both the .32 Skorpions were placed next to each other, then the two .357 Mateba revolvers, then the .44 Desert Eagle and .44 revolver. The larger guns were positioned on the table in a similar fashion: His 12G Mossberg was lying closest to his seat, then came the 7.62 x 39 AK, and finally the 7.62 RPD.

As he came to sorting through the various knives and melee weapons, Jack became aware of a sudden bleeping from the bottom of his bag. For a moment, he hesitated, looking blankly at the small satchel. Then, slowly, he opened it and began rummaging through, the sound becoming louder and quieter as he moved things around. Finally, he came upon the source.

There, lying at the very bottom of his equipment bag, was the radio he'd been issued before entering the portal. The amount of dust and dirt on it indicated that it hadn't actually been pulled out for a very long time, but the red flashing light on it was clear as day. Sitting himself down, Jack withdrew the radio and the small headset that he had been issued alongside it, before connecting the two, donning the headgear, and looking at the radio.

The bleeping was in synchronization with the light flashing. That combination must have meant that it was transmitting a signal...or receiving one.

After a pause, he pressed the button, and moved the microphone down so he could speak into it. "Afternoon, London speakin'." The response was a few seconds of static, before the sound of a small ruckus on the other end, distant voices, and a man coughing whilst pages were turned.

"_Hello?! Is this London? Jack London?!_"

Jack looked about slightly in confusion. "...aye?" The voices returned.

"_Holy fuck!_" came the American man's voice once again. "_None of you contacted us since you all entered that fucking portal four years ago!_" Jack blinked.

What?

"...four years?"

"_Exactly! Four years! That's how long you boys've been out there!_" Jack shook his head.

"Nah, it's not been four years," he replied, scratching his head, "It's only been about three or four months. I mean, sorry for not contactin' you, but-"

"_It's only been three or four months over there?_" The voices went silent.

"Yeah."

"_...there's temporal distortion._" The voices slowly murmured into life in the background. Holy shit, this bloke had a good microphone. "_Four years over here on Earth...that's four months over there. Time must run twelve times faster here than it does over in the Second Dimension._" Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Fuck..." he muttered. He'd been missing for five years back home, including his training. Any of his friends and family probably had no idea where he was. Maybe there was a manhunt going on.

Was he the new Madeline McCann?

Damn.

He steeled himself, and sat up. "Right then...Mr...?"

"_Lieutenant McCain_," responded the man. "_Like the Die Hard cop._"

"Whatever. What're you needin' me to do?" There was no hesitation.

"_We need you to find an area of that dimension that we can use to set up a research outpost._"

"Well, shit, I can't really do that," Jack winced. "I doubt the ladies in charge here would appreciate that." There was a hesitation.

"_...ladies...in charge? Are you telling us there's signs of life, Mr. London?_"

"More than signs; There's four nations, four goddesses, millions of civilians, monsters, open terrain...this place is fuckin' mad! Settin' up a research base is gonna be a tough job for me and the lads to run by the CPUs..."

"_CPUs?_" The voices on the other end were _bristling_ with pure excitement and awe.

"Console Patron Units," Jack explained, standing up and beginning to pace around the balcony. "There's four of them. Each one runs one of the countries. You've got Lady Noire runnin' Lastation, Lady Neptune runnin' Planeptune, Lady Vert in charge of Leanbox, and Lady Blanc as head of Lowee. They've been at war for the past few centuries, over Shares. Shares are the belief of their civilians, turned into pure energy for consumption by the CPUs. Their Share energy directly correlates to how powerful they are. And these ladies're no ordinary ladies...they can _transform_."

"_Holy shit...this...this is amazing...!_"

"You're goddamn right it is," Jack said proudly, jabbing a finger at the radio. "It gets better, and this is how I helped. When I showed up, the dimension travel portal thing dropped me up in a place called Celestia, where only the CPUs can travel to and do battle in. At the time I arrived, three of them were gangin' up on one of them, so I stepped in, talked with them, and now they're in fuckin' _diplomatic meetin's_ for the first time in centuries! I'm in pretty deep with them; They trust me enough that I have citizenship to Lastation, and the CPU of that nation trusts me to look after her younger sister."

"_Fucking hell!_" McCain cried, as voices began sounding incredibly excited in the background. Jack smiled._ "London, I don't know if you realize this, but you've just fucking REVOLUTIONIZED this project, and potentially the world!_"

"Alright, guess this project paid off for summat," he grinned. "So, what're you needin'? Info? Photos? Economic and political shite?" There was a pause.

"_Everything._"

Jack nodded, and sat down, withdrawing his phone to dial up Noire.

"Cool. I'll get one of the goddesses on the line."

On the other end of the interdimensional radio, grown men fainted in their labcoats at the proposition of casual communication with a fucking alien.


	24. Research and DeveNepment

In the usual manner that she moved in, Noire strode out onto the balcony, folding her arms as she left the basilicom to keep a little bit warm. After all, the fine garments she was wearing had obviously no effect against Lowee's rather strong windchill. "Lovebun, I know it's one of your days off and all," she began huffily, approaching his table, "But this had better have been worth me coming out here." Jack gave a nod, and gestured to the radio on the table.

"And there's your answer," he replied calmly, almost as if he were speaking to the radio. The goddess raised a brow. "Gents, that voice you just heard was none other than Lady Noire, the CPU of Lastation." Noire stopped in front of the table, and looked irritatedly at Jack. He flashed a grin. "Give us a second, I need to speak with her for a minute." With that, he released the button to speak over the radio, and looked up at Noire.

"Hi," he began, smiling. Noire's expression didn't change.

"Are you seriously trying to waste my time with one of your little schemes?" she snapped. "Regardless of the fact we've agreed to stop hating each other-"

"I never actually hated you."

"-I'll still get pissed off if you waste my time."

"Ah!" Jack replied sharply, pointing at her. "Trust me, you'll like this one." He turned back to the radio, offering it to her and unplugging the headset he was wearing. "This radio right here lets me contact the guys back home who sent me here in the first place!" The CPU looked rather hesitantly at it. Goodness, it was a rather large radio. Almost the size of an average N-Gear. Slowly, she looked down at Jack.

"Mr. Lovebun, I understand that you're not used to having nothing to do, but has a normal sleeping length and a few hours of R&amp;R really driven you crazy this fast?"

"No, no! Trust me, it lets you speak to them! Just trust me on this one. You already trust me enough to look after your little sister, why not trust me enough to speak to another fuckin' dimension?" Noire closed her eyes, and rubbed her face.

For a few seconds, she slowly exhaled.

"Fine..." Reluctantly, she took the radio into both her hands and pressed the button. "Hello? Is this Mr. Lovebun's world?" Jack crossed his fingers, hoping for a response. There was no noise on the other end, and Noire looked more annoyed as the silence continued. Her face, however, lit up as there was a loud bleep. McCain's voice crackled over the radio once more, the sound resounding through the air as it left the speakers.

"_...y-yes...th-this is Earth...my God, you're...you're the...!_"

"That's right! I'm a CPU!" Noire smirked proudly, immediately acting as if she knew it would happen. Jack pumped his fist. "My name is Noire! I'm in charge of Lastation, _the_ greatest of all the nations in Gamindustri!" McCain's voice was barely audible over the cries of ecstasy on the other end of the radio.

"_HOLY SHIT! THAT KID WASN'T LYING! SOMEBODY CALL THE FUCKING COLONEL!_" He coughed. "_Sh-Shit! London, wherever the hell that portal shoved you, you might have just turned a new leaf in Earth's scientific history!_"

"Right, whatever," Jack sighed. "Just speak with Lady Noire, McCain. And send us through some gear, would you?"

"_G-Gear?_"

"Weapons, explosives, armour, fancy hats, whatever the hell you think I might need," Jack replied, leaning over to Noire. "Namely some remote explosives, grenades, and a rocket launcher." Noire looked rather frightenedly at him.

"_...say again and provide reason, London? I thought you said you were in a safe place._"

"You remember those Eastern European gangsters that came through?"

"_All two hundred of them?_" Jack frowned.

"Holy shit, what, two hund...you know what, never mind. White suited arseholes."

"_Yeah._ _I remember those guys._"

"Right. They've turned to crime. I think they're currently terrorizing Leanbox but they may expand their presence."

"_Fuck's sake. When the Colonel shows up here, you'll need to give him a report on this. You met with any of the others?_"

"A few. Josh Monoplie, Lucas Black, James Hillman, and...uh, 'Chaz'."

"_That guy who can get planes from nowhere? We sent __**him**__ through? Who the hell ordered that?_"

"He can summon planes?"

"_Yeah...we dunno where the agents dug him up._"

"Huh. Right, anyway, yeah, only the four so far, not counting a bunch of those thugs I..." Jack paused. "...uh, _'helped deal with'_ when I was in Leanbox." Noire looked at him.

"But you killed them."

"_What? Please repeat that._"

"Oh, son of a bitch," Jack groaned.

"Uh...he killed a bunch of the armed criminals that you sent here?" Noire repeated curiously as Jack desperately tried to think up how he could stop her from speaking without it being classed as sexual assault.

The pressure point on the buttock would make her slap him and tell everyone he was a pervert.

The pressure point on the chest would make her slap him, and tell everyone he was a pervert.

Punching her in the throat would probably kill her, and then Uni would start crying and he'd feel like a massive cunt.

Punching her in the crotch would render her infertile and depending on her sexual interests could cause extreme arousal.

Christ, why did women have to be so difficult to take down?

"_What the hell have you done, London?_" McCain snapped. The voices in the background were going crazy. "_You might have compromised this whole project because you just couldn't keep your finger off the fucking trigger! You'd better be expecting a goddamn court martial when you get back!_" Jack glared at Noire, who looked back innocently.

"First off, Lady Noire, I fuckin' hate you," he said flatly.

"Sorry..." muttered the CPU, kicking at the floor slightly.

"McCain, get fucked, I'm not goin' back to Earth. I'll send research data from here," he continued. "Additionally, with the explosives you're sendin', send a TV camera wired for interdimensional operation. I can get you people a glimpse into what a real society looks like."

There was a pause. "_Fine...Wilkins, get this down! Interdimensionally capable wireless camera! Anything else you need, London?_"

"Hmm..." Jack thought for a minute. Then, he grinned. "Yeah, I'll need a ride, too." Noire concealed a laugh. He was _really_ taking advantage.

"_Of course! We were supposed to have sent you with something in the first place for navigation of harsher terrains, but somewhere along the line we ended up forgetting._"

Jack concealed his emotions of anger that they didn't give him a vehicle to begin with. The soles of his feet were hard enough to stop a bullet after all the walking he'd been doing. "Don't worry. Needs to be relatively fast, though, both on and off road."

"_I'll see what I can get pushed through logistics...why did you kill your fellow operatives, London?_" Jack sighed.

"Christ, fine, how about this?" he snapped. "Those fuckers have already gotten back into crime, I've already said. A bunch of 'em kidnapped Lucas Black and Joshua Monoplie and held them hostage in a nightclub, then attempted to murder an RRoD operative that attempted to free the two. So I killed six of those fuckers and sent the rest to prison. Happy now?"

"_...we'll need evidence to prove that the killings were justified-_"

"Holy fuckin' shit, this is a pisstake."

"_-until then, keep this radio active and submit anything you find. Your equipment should be on its way shortly. Good luck, London._"

"Luck's for people with no real skill, McCain," Jack said smoothly. "That's why I'm the unluckiest bastard in this universe." Noire raised her brows as Jack passed over the radio.

"Needlessly dramatic," she giggled.

"Sounded cool, though," Jack whistled, sitting back at the table. "Alright, McCain, I'm gonna leave you to speak to Lady Noire. She's a goddess over here; Treat her nice."

"_U-Understood!_" McCain stuttered. "_Nice work, London, you go get some rest._" As Jack walked away, he groaned, and checked his watch.

He'd only had less than three hours of his day off.

He turned, and looked at Noire, who was looking back at him with a victorious smirk and her tongue stuck out. "Oh, and when that motorcycle and the explosives show up, Mr. Lovebun?"

"Aye?"

"We'll need to talk. A _lot_."

"God fuckin' dammit."

_**A half hour later...**_

Jack's next idea to cure his boredom was to wander about Lowee's streets and see what there was to do. Of course, he was getting a few looks from the tiny little womanlets that populated the land, but he didn't really care. By that point, he was about used to it.

Yes. Wow. Look how tall he was. Amazing. None of them seemed to be used to that.

Whatever.

Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head and pressed on, looking around the busy streets for anything he could go and do to keep himself entertained. Unfortunately, Lowee being Lowee, and Lowee being a rather 'family-friendly' nation, there wasn't really that much for him. Any of the things he'd normally do for enjoyment were off: He didn't feel like polishing his guns, he wasn't allowed to go fight monsters, the other guys from Earth had work to do, and there wasn't a Chika, Cave, MAGES., Uni, or Compa for him to speak to.

And if he remembered rightly, he had _several_ days off. That meant that if he couldn't find anything to do, he'd have to try again the next day, and the next, and the next...

Oh, God, he really needed something to do.

He stopped at a street corner, and reclined against a lamp-post, earning a few looks from those passing by. He then withdrew his phone, navigated to contacts (_Took a while; His hands were too big_), then called up Chika.

After a moment, the voice he knew and loved came through. "_What's up, Glovebox?_" the Oracle asked casually. Jack pictured her reclined in a chair, with her legs crossed on the table and an entire bottle of Prosecco in hand whilst she spoke to him.

"Oracle Hakozaki, I need your help," he began firmly. "The CPUs told me to take some time off because I work too much. What the fuck am I meant to do?"

"_I dunno,_" Chika replied flatly. "_First off, call me by my forename. It's weird if you call me by my title. Second off, what're you asking me for?_"

"Well, we're like-minded people. What the hell do you do when you have a few days off?"

"_Uh...play video games, pester Vert, tidy my chambers, steal and sniff Vert's pannnnn...das...y'know...the expected stuff._" Jack raised a brow.

"Video games, eh?" he mused, scratching his chin and completely ignoring everything else that was said. "What do you play them on? Like...console, or summat?"

"_Nah, I have a fairly decent PC that I like using. I'd never really played video games up until recently, so I decided to use a platform I sort of understood before I delved into Leanbox's hardware._" There was a pause whilst Chika sighed. "_D'ahh, Vert doesn't like it when I talk about my PC..._"

"Uh huh..." Jack stood, and began looking around the street. That was an idea. He just needed to see if anywhere sold a PC with a large keyboard and mouse and...basically everything. "Well, no problem for me; I was a PC user myself before I came over here. I played _all_ the classics. Doom, Quake, Wolfenstein, Spyhunter..."

"_I don't know what those are._"

"Shame. Anyway, cheers for the advice," he replied calmly, beginning to march back to the basilicom so that he could mooch off the free Wi-Fi. "Gonna buy a fuckin' _mad_ PC off Blancazon."

"_Ugh, don't taunt me with disposable income. If I tried using the national budget to buy a decent PC, that'd be embezzlement. Also, I think Vert would disown me._"

"Ah, well, that'd be alright. You could live with me and Chaz!"

"_You two are gonna live together? As in, room-mates, or...?_"

"Don't go there, Seafoam-Top. It's a man's thing for two men to live in the same house in a non-gay way. It'll be like Top Gun. Totally. Not. Gay."

"_OK, then, suit yourself, whatever. Where're you even gonna live?_"

"Gonna buy a house in Lastation, just opposite the basilicom."

"_Awww, c'mon, Gloveboooox..._"

"What?"

"_I thought we were bestiiiiiiies..._"

"We are, though."

"_Then why not live in Leanbox?_"

"Because I'm a Lastation citizen, and I'd end up missin' the CPUs."

"_Ri...wait. CPU__**S**__?"_

"...yeah. Noire and Uni. Is there an issue, there?"

"_I thought you hated Noire, and vice-versa._"

"Nah, I didn't really hate her. Just...didn't _like _her. I think she just hated me because of the fact I spend so much time with Uni."

"_You __**really**__ do love that kid, don't you? Why do you care so much about her? As far as I know, all you got told to do is look after her, and you love her like she's your own little sister. In fact, isn't that sort of the reason why Noire didn't like you? For stealing her sister, or something?_"

Jack stopped himself before he began explaining what he'd already told Noire.

Should he?

...nah.

"She's just really great," he said finally, beginning up the road leading to the basilicom. "Let's just leave it at that, aye?"

"_Uhhh...OK, whatever you say, Glovebox._" Out of all Jack had gathered about her, he knew Chika wasn't really one to bother chasing things up if they weren't important; That was probably because she had more important things to think about most days. "_So...why're they giving you time off? Did you do something wrong?_"

"I dunno," Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Summat to do with me doin' nothin' but work, or '_workin' too hard_', or some bollocks. Me! Workin' too hard! Can you believe that shit?"

"_Yeah, I can._"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Come on, Chika, you know I don't work that hard."

"_Trust me, you do._"

"I don't. I enjoy my job; It's like free time for me."

"_Yeah, and during that free time, you practically go into a trance and shoot everything that moves whilst you have this murderous expression on your face._"

Jack thought for a minute.

Nah, he never did that. She was taking the piss.

"Don't remember the whole 'murderous grin' bit you're talkin' about."

_"I think there's something wrong with you._"

"No, there's not."

"_I suggest speaking to Histoire when you're next in Planeptune. She's trained in psychology...and, y'know, you're kind of a sociopath._"

"Actually, Chika, the psych-evaluation during training had me identified as a **highly-destructive psychopath**," he retorted nonchalantly. "If you're gonna make accusations, back them u-"

"_Yeah, y'know what? I should probably call Planeptune's basilicom and give Histoire a heads-up._"

"Chika, bae, don't do this."

"_Seriously, you can't even see that you need time off._"

"But I don't!"

"_Yes, you do!_" Chika replied exasperatedly, before finally sighing. "_...listen, I'm not asking you to have a psychological exam. I'm ordering you to have one._"

"Sod. Off. Of all the things I went through in training, it was the mental trainin' that I fuckin' loathed. Psychologists are fuckin' 'orrible, as well. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go buy some shit off the internep, like conso-"

"_London._"

Jack froze in his tracks, staring at the N-Gear in his hand. The icy winds of the path up the mountain leading to the Lowee basilicom burned his face and eyes, but he kept his look of shock.

"Oracle..." he stuttered, "...wha...what did you just call me?"

"_London. It's your name, isn't it?_"

The man was at a loss for words.

"You...you can _pronounce it..._"

"_Yes, I can pronounce it. I'm certain we all can, when it's plot convenient. But I have your attention now, yes?_"

Jack swallowed, and nodded, ignoring the blatant mention of a 'plot'.

"_Good. What I want you to do is go through with the psychological test that Histoire'll give you. If we know how mentally stable you are, I think we'd all sleep a little better at night, you included._" There was a pause. "_That, and it'd probably help, considering that you've...done some...__**things**__._"

Jack remained silent, listening to her every word, and rubbing his forehead in an attempt to gather why he was enjoying being ordered to do things.

"_Until then, what I want you to do is go and play some video games, read a book, talk to people, or do something __**other**__ than working. Are we clear, soldier?_"

"Y...Yes..." Jack murmured, staring almost blankly ahead.

"_Great. Go get some rest, Glovebox: You, of all people, have earned it. See you later._"

"B-Bye..."

The click at the other end signalled that he was now truly alone on the mountain road. For a moment, he remained still, before he began to absent-mindedly continue walking, mind racing with questions.

Why did she call him 'soldier'?

Why did she suddenly become incredibly domineering?

Why did he _like_ it?

...at what point did he become a masochist?

In fact, he could probably piece together what he was into. He'd read Wikipedia, he knew all the fancy words that basically meant 'fetish'.

So, if he remembered the prefixes rightly and was being honest with himself, he was a heterosexual sado-masochistic hoplo-mechanophiliac.

He paused at that thought.

Maybe he really _did_ need that psych-exam.

Whatever.

It was as his mind whirred over all the reasons why he found weapons and machines so sexy that he suddenly had an idea as to how he could fill time.

_**Two days later...**_

"Excuse me, Noire," Blanc began, tapping her fellow CPU on the shoulder. The taller goddess let out a 'Hmm?', turning to look down at Blanc.

"Oh, hi, Blanc," Noire greeted. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Mr. Lovebun anywhere for the past few days?" Noire thought for a minute, rubbing her chin.

"...come to think of it, I haven't. Why, you need him for something?" Placing a hand on her hip, she withdrew her N-Gear and dialled up his number. Blanc shook her head.

"No, I was simply asking because nobody has seen him around," she replied. "I have concerns that he might have gone out to fight monsters against our requests."

After a moment, Noire groaned. "Ugh, that man..." she muttered, before shaking her head and looking at Blanc. "He declined the call. Maybe we should check his room." Blanc gave a nod, and the two began to walk in the direction of his room. "So, I think these meetings are going well."

"Yes," came Blanc's rather quiet reply. "I feel we've made considerable progress. And the meeting in Planeptune will be the last?"

"Hopefully so."

"Yeah."

The two went silent, and continued walking. After several minutes of walking (_and shuffling, in Blanc's case_), they finally reached the doorway leading to the guest room which London had been issued. The door handle looked like it hadn't been turned in a while.

Noire sniffed, frowning at it. "No fingerprints...I've seen Uni around, and she's not tried to visit him?" Blanc nodded in concern, as a look of slight worry went over Noire's face. "I wonder if he's feeling OK..." After a hesitation, the Lastation CPU reached forward, clutching the doorhandle and slowly turning it to reveal the dark room inside.

Hunched over the desk, with most of his guns all around him in various states of completeness, his N-Gear set up like a laptop and a pencil in his hand, was a rather dishevelled-looking London, illuminated by the desk lamp that shone onto the large sheet of paper he had spread in front of him. Jack looked like he was focusing hard, so the CPUs took caution to be quiet when they entered. The only sound as they approached was footsteps, and the scratching of pencil on paper.

To their surprise, he had, in fact, followed the advice that they had given him; Next to the desk, there was a small stack of about six boxes, each unopened and adorned with the box art of different nations' consoles. The bit that concerned the two CPUs was 'unopened'.

He bought them and didn't play with them? Why? What was he focusing on?

As Noire stepped closer, her foot crushed something soft, prompting her to stop and look down. The floor was littered with scrunched up balls of paper. Curiously, she bent down and picked one up, unfurling it.

At the top of the page, there was a set of three letters.

**'G.B.F.O.G' 5000 ENERGY GENERATOR**

Underneath, there was a plan view of what appeared to be concept art for a...machine of some kind. Whilst it appeared strange and clunky, the thing that most amazed her was the proposed _size_; The 'Dimensions' section on the bottom right of the page, whilst slightly hard to read, mentioned that the concept she was looking at would be even longer than she was tall, at 1.5 meters, weigh twice as much as the weight-limit for the elevator to her study (_Which could take TWELVE people_), and would roughly be as tall as Blanc's sisters.

She swallowed. Why was London making an 'energy generator'? Was he trying to solve the world's energy problems?

Noire lowered the paper, and glanced at Blanc. The smaller CPU was looking at a half-finished exploded-view drawing of a similar-looking thing to the picture in Noire's hands. Upon meeting Noire's gaze, they both shrugged, and Noire looked at London. "Lovebun, are you alright?" she asked gently. He'd been away from society for two days.

He might have gotten violent, she needed to be cautious.

The man suddenly perked up slightly, and glanced behind him at the two with a slight look of surprise on his face. "Oh!" he said quickly. "Hi. I'm fine. Why?" Noire was slightly taken aback.

"O-Oh. We've, uh, we've just not seen you for the past two days, so...we thought maybe..." Her voice began to trail off. What _had_ they thought he was doing?

"We thought you'd gone out to fight monsters against our requests," Blanc finished for her. Jack waved a dismissive hand, turning back to the lit area on his desk.

"Nah, I've been in here," he whistled. "Just doin' a bit of work, 's all." Noire sighed.

"Lovebun, we said not to do any work."

"This isn't work for you." London sharply turned to face them, almost exasperated. "I'm doin' this for myself, because I want to. Is that a crime?"

"But we said not to do any work," Blanc replied, calm as ever. "It's slightly hurtful to think you'd ignore us like this."

Jack thought for a moment. "How long've I been in here?" Noire checked the clock on the wall.

"Like I said, we've not seen you for about two days." Jack raised his brows.

"Cool. Must've made _some_ progress on this, then..." He glanced back at the paper on his desk, scratching his chin. Blanc raised a brow.

"If I may inquire," she began, "What is it you've been working on?"

"It's an energy generator I'm designin'. Gonna call it the GBFOG 5000...well, I would, if I could finish these bloody plans." Noire raised a brow.

"You're making an energy generator?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She and Blanc approached beside the desk, looking down on the plan he was drawing. It was a significantly more detailed version of the one that Noire had stepped on, with what appeared to be a list of components down the side.

**NEED:**

**\- x200 Plasma Fuel Cells**

**\- x4 Neptunium Rods (**_**150cm long, 5cm diameter**_**)**

**\- 0.7 tons of scrap (**_**Don't use iron / steel, will probably melt**_**)**

**\- A metric fuckload of rivets and screws**

**\- Energy level meter (Might not need?)**

Blanc eyed the list in interest. "Mr. Lovebun, I had no idea you were capable of designing such devices." Jack just shrugged.

"I'm not," he whistled, reclining in his chair, "I just know the basics: If you can direct unstable energy, you can do summat with it, and send it somewhere else. I'm just drawin' up the plans, and then..." He paused, thinking. "...hell, I dunno what I'll do with 'em. Maybe sell 'em. Someone'll buy the idea. Maybe." The CPUs glanced at each other.

Neither was sure whether to rip into him for not having a proper holiday, or to congratulate him on working on a generator to aid in the fight for affordable energy.

So, after a moment, and seeing as how she saw herself as the 'closest' CPU to London, Noire placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's...great that you've found something to do other than killing monsters, London," she began. "But I don't understand. You were given a holiday to sort yourself out a bit; Half the time, you look like you're about to bite someone's head off, and your attitude just sours by the day. So why would you spend your time off doing..._this_?"

"I wanted to design summat," he replied calmly, before continuing to write illegible words on the paper. "And it's one of those things where if I don't design it, nobody's gonna design it. Nobody ever made it anywhere by expectin' things to be done for them, Lady Noire. You should know that." She paused, then shrugged appreciatively.

"But why an energy generator?" Blanc asked.

"Because energy generators are fuckin' awesome," Jack replied calmly, tapping his pencil on the desk briefly before grabbing the two sides of the design paper and beginning to roll it up. "Anyway, don't think I'll be making the damned thing."

"You're not gonna build it?" Noire raised a brow. The man sighed, and rubbed the back of his head, shrugging as the paper disappeared into his disk.

"Well, think about it," he began, starting to gather his weapons. "I'm not exactly 'mechanically inclined'. There's people here who _are_, but considerin' that this thing's _my_ personal project, I'd rather do it alone, and I don't know how to make advanced devices." The two CPUs began to leave London's room, following behind him. Once they were in the hallway, Jack stretched himself. "Fuuuuck..." he grunted. Noire winced at the audible clicking of his back. "Soooo...what's on the agenda for later?"

"Well," Noire began, smiling, "The other CPUs and I got talking, and we agreed that it might be nice for you to head to Planeptune a few days early." Jack, as per his usual, frowned.

"I dunno," he whistled, scratching his chin. "Seems like it'd be an inconvenience to Histoire. And then there's Compa. Feels like it'd be mean to just show up and start livin' in her house again." Noire narrowed her eyes.

"Wait, _living_?" she asked quickly. "You're living with a girl? Who is she? Have I met her?" Jack dismissed her with a hand.

"Calm it down, Lady Noire," he said in as reassuring a manner as he could muster. "She's a friend of Lady Neptune. Friendliest girl I've ever met, and she's also a nurse." Noire's eye twitched.

"And you live with this..._nurse_?"

"Aye. I signed a contract with her that said I could crash at hers' whenever I'm in Planeptune, so long as I lend a hand when she needs it." Noire grimaced further.

"Help with things such as?" she asked, pressing on. Jack became slightly suspicious.

"Uh..." The man eyed her up and down, trying to evaluate her motives. "Movin' the furniture around, helpin' her with shoppin', helpin' her practise CPR, that sort of thing." Noire paled slightly.

"C-C-C-CPR...?" she whimpered. "S-So...l-like...m-m-mouth to m-mouth...?" Jack looked at her in confusion.

"The fuck're you havin' a panic attack for?" he groaned incredulously. "All I do is tell her things I learned from my trainin'. And besides, you really think summat like mouth contact _matters_ when someone's about to die?" He folded his arms, shaking his head at her. "You _'ave_ got a dirty mind."

_**Hours later...**_

Jack was more surprised than anything that nobody had asked him about Josh and Luke's Challenger tank parked out front. It had pulled up earlier whilst he was getting ready to head to Lowee, but he didn't see anybody leaving it. That must have meant that whoever had managed to move it (_From the police impound lot, he might have added; The thing was somehow confiscated after the nightclub fiasco, alongside a rather swish Pontiac Firebird that Jack felt like he should have asked the Leanbox police force about when he was there_) had clambered into it, closed the hatch, and figured out how to drive one of the British Army's most dangerous pieces of equipment _without_ accidentally driving through an orphanage.

And to top it all off, considering how he hadn't noticed anybody get out of it, they must have accidentally sealed themselves inside because the hatch was too heavy.

Bloody idiot.

Whilst he stepped out of Lowee's basilicom front doors and started walking through the night-lit courtyard, Jack thought about how the CPUs would respond to it had they have asked.

Knowing Lady Neptune, she'd ask if she could have a go, to which the answer from all the Earthmen would be a resounding "_**Fucking no**_".

Lady Blanc would stare at it for a minute, then ask if it could be removed because it might scare Lowee's citizens. Again, the response from the others would be "_**No**_", but Jack would have been happy to drive it off the premises and through a field of Fenrirs if he weren't on a forced holiday.

Lady Noire would either go ballistic, or ask _about_ its ballistics. Jack would then explain all of the tank's details, and Noire would probably fall asleep.

Lady Vert would likely question how it had managed to end up in Lowee. Jack would also question this and ultimately decide it didn't matter because it was there for him to..._'borrow'_ from Luke and Josh.

That evening was quite a clear one; The skies were dark but cloudless, meaning he could easily see the field of stars above him as he approached the Challenger tank. The large metal vehicle had already grown a few icicles in few hours it had been sat outside, and the treads, front plate, and lights looked to have been covered with some sort of red material. Come to think of it, the red paste looked like Dragon Blood.

Huh.

Whoever had moved it to Lowee had obviously taken a detour through some cave systems and fields.

And that person was probably still inside the vehicle.

Putting on a serious face, Jack stooped low and withdrew the AK, racking the bolt because it would probably look pretty cool, and carefully approached the side of the tank, placing an ear to the freezing metal hull. Inside, he couldn't hear anything. "Shite!" he muttered, stomping a foot slightly. "What the hell was I expectin' to hear through a few inches of armour?!" Mentally slapping himself for being such a dopey fucking twat, Jack went to the front of the vehicle, placing one foot on the front hull, and then pushing himself up onto it as silently as he could. Crouching again once he was on top, he took one step, slipped on a patch of ice, then fell straight from the vehicle, smacking his back on the front of the tank and landing on his face in the snow. It took a lot of effort to conceal the fact that getting smashed in the spine by a piece of metal was _not_ pleasant, even with body armour.

It took even more effort not to make a quiet whining noise.

Picking himself up, Jack grit his teeth, put the AK away, and prepared to board the vehicle, whether it liked it or not.


	25. Chika Mobile

Unsurprisingly, most of Jack and Cave's journey to the Lowee docks was done in silence. Cave sat in the commander's seat with a headset on, silently looking at all the switches and screens that surrounded her. Jack was driving in the seat beneath. He had a headset on, and was glaring miserably ahead at the Lowee street as the tank rumbled forward at a slow speed, so as to abide by traffic laws. There were already two police cars either side of the Challenger, front and back, so Jack wasn't worried about inadvertently crushing a Prius, both because of the police cars setting his pace, and because he didn't like anybody who drove a Prius.

After about twenty minutes of watching the man struggle and slip on ice and gradually become more upset, Cave felt sorry for Jack and helped him get onto the tank. Whilst that somewhat cheered him up, he was still pissed off that he didn't get to shoot the N-Gears out of Josh, Luke, James, Neptune, Noire, and Chaz's hands before they had recorded him repeatedly falling off an ice-covered metal-plated vehicle for almost half an hour. He was certain that video was posted to UniTube, and was probably all over the internep, by that point.

Cave couldn't help but look down at her large male companion rather sympathetically. She'd come all the way to Lowee to keep looking after him, and the first thing that happens is that she ends up needing to help him into his own vehicle after he publicly humiliated himself. Not only that, but apparently he was being forced to have a holiday by the CPUs because he'd overworked himself, banning him from fighting monsters, and meaning that he looked bored, sad, and tired, all at once.

Cave knew the feeling; She had been given similar instructions. She wasn't allowed to do any monster fighting or RRoD work for another month, but she still had the job of keeping an eye on her Earth-human charges. Thus, she decided that the best course of action would be to take their massive armoured vehicle and ram it through several cave systems on her way to Lowee. Thankfully, she arrived on time.

As the police officers guided them onto the boat that would take them to Planeptune, Cave dreaded to think what would have happened if she hadn't arrived on time.

Then she did think about it, her cold stare wandering over the many dials and levers that the operator of an armoured artillery vehicle would have to learn the functions of. If she didn't arrive on time, she wouldn't have been surprised if Mr. Glovebox had just walked to the docks to the ferry, even through the biting frost and windchill of the Lowee night.

Heck, it wouldn't have particularly amazed her if he decided to go the entire journey on foot.

But...she'd arrived on time, and that was all that really had any relevance, right?

Though she really couldn't help but feel sorry for him. At first, nobody knew who he was. Then in Leanbox, he became a household name for his heroic deeds and acidic tongue of a robbery night, and the warm heart of the speech he gave. Then, in Lowee, he did nearly nothing for his image except (allegedly) go on a rant about how his home country was awful, which a few people heard. Then, in Planeptune, he visited a public bath. Cave remembered that quite well: His normally pompous and aggressive behaviour suddenly disappeared whenever he was wearing less than normal. That, combined with the CCTV footage of him getting changed that got leaked for a few minutes, seriously began affecting his popularity.

Of course, then you had the villages that he and Uni caused some damage to, then the nightclub shootout which ended in a mass murder and her own hospitalization, and more recently was the image of him sleeping with Uni.

And now, to further smash his public image, his own friends had recorded him failing to enter a tank in icy conditions. Likely, it was already a viral hit.

Speaking of hit things, Cave decided to see if Mr. Glovebox's ego was intact. She cleared her throat, and moved the microphone nearer to her mouth. "Mr. Glovebox?" There was silence over the muffled roar of the tank's engine. Finally, a voice crackled in over the headset.

"_Yeah?_"

"Are you...feeling OK?"

"_Physically, no. Psychologically, no. Egotistically, no. Why?_"

"Mr. Glovebox, it'll be OK. At most, the recordings made by the others will only end up as memes."

"_Memes are fuckin' cancerous. I hope they all up and fuckin' well die._"

"Memes are images and videos on the internep. You can't kill the-"

"_I meant them lot. Who the fuck do they think they are, forcin' me to have time off and then recordin' it when they see that I'm not used to it? Fuckin' cunts. Given the chance, I'd turn this tank around and turn that basilicom into a pile of rubble with everyone inside._"

Everyone? Ouch. He clearly wasn't thinking straight.

Cave thought for a moment and spoke again. "But would that not hurt the Lastation CPU candidate?"

There was silence.

"_...y-yeah...yeah, it...it would._" After another moment of silence, wherein Cave watched the large male driver sitting behind the steering controls and rubbing his forehead, he suddenly yelled loudly and began hammering his fist on the console, eliciting loud slamming noises that rang around the cabin over the engine noise. "_Chika was right! Son of a fuckin' BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK IS __**WRONG**__ WITH ME LATELY?!_" Cave removed her headphones briefly, wincing at the volume of his voice. She doubted that she even needed the headset to have heard that.

Though, as she put them back on, she didn't say a word. What _could_ she say? He'd started _acknowledging_ that he was being irrational and violent over things. In fact, he seemed upset by it. Was she meant to go "_Well done for realizing you're a psycho?_" There was nothing she would be able to say to him that would calm him down.

So what could she do?

Sighing, she withdrew her N-Gear, and sent a message to the person who knew Jack better than anybody else, and who shared a vaguely similar mindset to him in that the best solution to anything causing a problem is to turn its head into wallpaper paste.

Oracle Hakozaki's response was as to-the-point as Cave had expected from the second in command of an entire country.

_**Chika:**__ ffs cave, i'm taking a shit, why are you texting me?_

_**You:**__ TMI. Sorry to bother you, but London is being rather miserable and he appears to be having a mental crisis._

_**Chika: **__apparently the cpus made him have a holiday and he's not taking it well. how bad is he?_

_**You:**__ We've taken the Challenger to ride in on the way to Planeptune's basilicom. He just threatened to blow up the Lowee basilicom using said tank, with everyone inside the basilicom dying._

_**Chika:**__ k, first, remind him that if anything happens to lady vert, i'm going to violently rape and kill him in no particular order_

_**You:**__ .-._

_**Chika: **__second, he's already got a psychological exam lined up with miss histoire in planeptune. make sure he goes to that or he might have another breakdown and you'll be the one having to calm him down_

_**You:**__ Understood. Is there anything else?_

_**Chika:**__ yeah, there is. gimme a sec, just gonna wipe my ass real quick_

_**Chika:**__ k. he's apparently staying with this Nurse called Compa. I've seen a picture of her with lady purple heart, and i'll admit, she's pretty adorable. when you get the chance, pull her aside and tell her that if none of the things you say to him are calming him down, you two should run up, knock him to the floor, and snuggle him_

_**You:**__ OK. Why is this?_

_**Chika:**__ well, i hugged him when he had a mental breakdown the night he came back from the club incident. he calmed down a LOT. like, he smiled, and everything. worked then, would probably work now_

_**You:**__ I will try. What does this 'Compa' girl being adorable have to do with anything?_

_**Chika:**__ i ain't gonna lie, but i think he calmed down because he realized that something really adorable was hugging him. that means two of you would need to hug him to have the same effect that my hug did_

_**You:**__ OK._

_**Chika:**__ alright. will that be all, cave?_

She thought for a minute, checking the small window in front of her to see where the tank was. The hulking metal vehicle was just rolling onto the ship to take them to Planeptune, towering the other cars that were parked in the vehicle bay. Then, Cave remembered something.

_**You:**__ Actually, Oracle, I have two more questions. _

_**Chika:**__ k_

_**You: **__I heard rumours that Mr. Glovebox is designing an 'energy generator'._

_**Chika:**__ really? i thought he said he was making something called the B.G.F.O.G 5000, or something_

_**You:**__ Hmm. I am unsure if it's true. Do you wish for me to ask him?_

_**Chika:**__ don't. he might get defensive._

_**You:**__ OK. Additionally, if you do not mind me asking, why are you two so close?_

_**Chika:**__ what do you mean?_

_**You:**__ You two are near inseparable whenever he is in Leanbox._

_**Chika:**__ yeah, and_

_**You:**__ I cannot gather information to confirm it, but do you mind if I attempt to guess why you two hang out so often?_

_**Chika:**__ go ahead, shoot_

_**You:**__ You two hang about together since both of you are incredibly like-minded individuals who wear green, find entertainment in needless violence, enjoy staring at large breasts, and are likely attempting to find the correct time at which to have discrete intercourse._

There was no response for several minutes. Cave began to worry. Had she gone over the line? Was Oracle Hakozaki considering firing her at that moment? The response finally came as her phone buzzed.

_**Chika: **__holy shit cave i'm fucking dying the 'staring at large breasts' thing_

_**Chika:**__ oh my goddess_

_**Chika:**__ this is the exact reason why we need to hang out more_

Cave frowned.

What was the reason?

Naturally, being the cold, emotionless sociopath that she was, Cave decided to ask.

_**You: **__Is it so that you can stare at my ample chest?_

_**Chika:**__ cave no_

_**Chika: **__nooo_

_**Chika:**__ that's not why_

_**Chika:**__ you are literally fucking killing me with your texts right now, holy shit_

Cave stared blankly at her N-Gear as Chika continued messaging her and explaining that she was laughing very hard.

_**Meanwhile, in the driver's seat of the Challenger...**_

Jack switched off the engine, and leaned back in the leather seat, removing his headset and staring miserably at the roof of the driver's cabin.

What the hell was he doing?

He'd started out trying to get plants and animals for a government project.

He'd ended up working closely with four gods and solving international incidents.

But somewhere along the line, he'd turned into an emotional train wreck. He'd cried. He'd yelled. He'd reminisced over a world he wouldn't ever go back to. He'd threatened murder over people recording him falling over.

Maybe he was being an arsehole.

He felt like he should probably turn around and apologize to Cave...

Then, he paused straightening up in a moment of realization.

No.

This isn't what Captain Blazkowicz trained him to do for a whole year. He wasn't trained for loving, crying, or emotional breakdowns, or any of that utter teenage bullshit that those mouth-breathers on Instagram would post menial shite to their equally dim-witted peers.

It'd been drilled into his head for over three-hundred-and-sixty-five days...how could he forget his trainer's words?

"_The line between a freedom fighter and a soldier is thin,_" the blonde man drawled in a thick, Southern US accent as he paced back and forth._ "The freedom fighter is a man a' raw emotion. He fights for what he believes, and he'll scream and shout 'til his lungs dry up in the process of making his beliefs a reality. Some count him as a terror threat. Some count him as a hero for the ages. He counts himself as a third-party bringer a' justice._" Blazko would change direction at this point. "_The soldier, on the other hand, is the opposite. He's a fighter with a cold mind, cold heart, and no mercy. He'll keep going 'til he's either done his job, or he's dead. Feared by all, doesn't care who dies, and their duty comes first._" The Captain looked at the group of men, women, and teens assembled in front of him. "_That's why you fellas need to stay on that thin line. You want to mix powerful emotion, and merciless violence, all into one convenient package and all wrapped up with a nice lil' gun in your hands. Remember: Orders are orders, and in our business, they're normally not nice ones. But most a' the time, they don't mind you putting your own little spin on it so long as the job's done._"

For a moment, Jack basked in the legendary status of the incredibly long quote that he had somehow remembered for over a year despite hearing it only once. He closed his eyes, smiled slightly, and inhaled.

Yeah. He could toe that line, just like his mentor had said he should.

Exhaling, he opened his eyes, and sat up slightly. "Fuckin' aye-aye, Cap..." he chuckled. Just then, his N-Gear buzzed in his pocket. Shifting in his seat in order to access it, he withdrew the small pink device and turned on the screen.

A message from Chika? Must have been important.

He unlocked the N-Gear as the ship's horn sounded outside, signalling that they were about to get going. That meant that he and Cave now had fourteen hours to fill, and he knew from experience that he would _not_ try and spend that time shaving. Thus, he would probably see what Chika had messaged him over. Must have been really important for her to have sent him a text at that time of day.

_**Chika (Bae): **__holy shit dying r/n_

_**You:**__ what happened_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ i was texting cave_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ and she had a theory as to why we both hang out so much_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ hold on lemme forward it to you fuckin goddess this killed me_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ "You two hang about together since both of you are incredibly like-minded individuals who wear green, find entertainment in needless violence, enjoy looking at large breasts, and are likely attempting to find the correct time at which to have discrete intercourse." - _Cave, Today at 21:43PM

_**You:**__ AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH_

_**You: **__HOLY SHIT _

_**You:**__ MAD BANTER_

_**You:**__ "YOU BOTH ENJOY STARING AT LARGE BREASTS"_

_**You:**__ MY SIDES ARE IN FUCKING ORBIT_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ ikr, holy shit_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ and lay off the fucking caps lock_

_**You:**__ OK, sorry. But holy. Fucking. Shit. Cave dropped that bomb harder than the ones that ended World War 2._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ does she have any ground to it, tho?_

_**You:**__ Eh?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ do you enjoy ample funbags?_

_**You:**__ What the fuck do you take me for, some kind of flat-chest loving degenerate?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ lmao_

_**Chika (Bae): **__and that's why vert is your favourite CPU, right?_

_**You:**__ Chika, don't start this shit again._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ :(_

_**Chika (Bae): **__but fam_

_**Chika (Bae): **__did you not listen to her fire mixtape while you were here_

_**You:**__ No._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ it's fucking fire_

_**Chika (Bae): **__you know that one maid that normally serves us when we're on the balcony? jenny?_

_**You:**__ Yeah, Jenny's cool. Why?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ lady vert gave her a bonus to her weekly wage if she did a whole track set_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ we recorded jenny on an n-gear and she started spitting mad bars in the grand hall to the tune of MC 5pb_

_**You: **__No fucking way. Jenny did that?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ yeah, she did a whole track where she roasted lady blanc for no fucking reason_

_**You:**__ kek_

_**You: **__Where can I download it?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ lmao, knew you'd ask_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ you'll have to wait, vert's getting it edited_

_**You: **__Bugger. Anyway, I'm on my way to Planeptune now._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ i know, cave told me_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ just try and find something to do in the city, planeptune's capital has a lot of stuff to see and do and buy and stuff_

_**You:**__ Like?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ if you want my advice you should try the grand mall, they sell everything_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ dungeon crawling items, guns, swords, bows, spears, tech parts, consoles, games, etc._

_**You:**__ Sounds great. If she's got time off, I might go with Compa._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ but you never take me anywhere, tho_

_**You:**__ Because I'm quite frankly terrified that you might destroy your public image by accident. Plus, people are already curious about what the Oracle of a nation does behind closed doors, so if we were wandering about in town discussing memes then you'd probably get in shit._

_**Chika (Bae):**__ i already get shit from local papers_

_**You:**__ why tho? Who would bully you?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ the leanbox daily mail_

_**You:**__ OH OK, THAT KIND OF MAKES SENSE. We had a Daily Mail back in England and they were all pretentious arseholes as well. What do they say about you?_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ they keep banging on about an incident years ago where some bitch that looked like me was caught smoking a whole load of censored plants from r-18 island_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ when they found this woman she was high as the sky and gave my name instead of hers and nearly destroyed my political career_

_**You:**__ So she got caught with weed?_

_**Chika (Bae): **__i think it was weed maybe but it was censored_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ this is a family friendly story you know, we can't just go around promoting violence, drugs and drinking_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ even though i feel like my dearest vert might have a huge stash of censored material in her room including hentai and weed which i discovered when i was looking for her used panties to sniff_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ *pandas_

_**Chika (Bae):**__ lmao autocorrect am i right_

Jack frowned.

See, that was ANOTHER mention of it being a story. Was his entire adventure just a story?

If so, he hoped that they'd move on from the fucking filler chapters and let him shoot stuff again.


	26. Back With The Bestie

As per his usual, Jack had his moment of doubt before stepping onto the floating hexagon, before relaxing slightly as it hovered towards downtown, thus taking him towards Compa's apartment. He'd made the decision to check in there, then the next day, visit the basilicom. Cave had insisted on coming with him, and since the people transit system of Planeptune wouldn't accept twenty ton armoured vehicles as 'several people', they'd been forced to find a car park and put the Challenger tank there. For some reason, Jack felt like kind of a dick for parking it in such a way that it took up four spaces, but it was either that or crushing a bunch of cars.

Besides, he'd paid for four spaces. And it wasn't exactly like it was gonna get clamped, was it? Worst they could do is get an industrial crane and lift it onto the back of a fucking giant truck, then take it to a police station where Cave would probably go and steal it again.

Jack was about to ask Cave how she even got the Challenger to Lowee in the first place when she spoke first. "This...'Compa'," she began, placing her hands behind her back and pacing slightly on her floating hexagon. "She owns no weapons, correct?" Jack raised a brow.

_'Jesus. Not holding back on the questions, eh?'_

"...not...that I know of...?" he replied cautiously, deciding to withdraw the .44 revolver and idly twirl it around his finger like the famous character _**Semi-Automatic Badger**_ from the _**Steel Cog Rather Hard**_ stealth game series. "Why? Is it summat you're worried about?" Cave sniffed.

"Mostly for her own safety. I have concerns that you might attempt to appropriate any weapons she has." Jack gave her a deadpan look as he chucked the revolver behind his back, over his shoulder, onto his finger, then sideways.

"I'll be honest, I'm slightly insulted that you think I'd just take any weapon I find and then try to kill someone with it. I have enough as it is; Four machine guns, three revolvers, a handgun, some flash grenades, normal grenades, a baton, combat knife, machete, and I'm expectin' the delivery of some explosives from back home." With each mention of the weapons, Cave began looking more concerned. There was a pause.

Finally, she gave her response, folding her arms and eyeing Jack up and down. "Mmhmm. Mr. Glovebox, when did you last bathe?" Jack blinked.

_Fuck_, now that WAS a good question.

He raised his hand to scratch his chin, still spinning the revolver in a stupidly extravagant way without looking at it. Some of the people going past watched him curiously to see if the gun would go off. "Jesus, askin' all the hard questions, Cave..." he muttered. "...so, that was about four days in Lastation, a week in Leanbox, almost a week in Lowee, plus today and three days in Planeptune prior to my last visit to Lastation..." He paused, and looked down at Cave. "How long ago did we first meet in that public bath?"

Cave retched slightly, raising a hand to her mouth. "Oh, _goodness_, Mr. Glovebox!" she groaned. "You haven't bathed in a _month?!_" Jack nodded calmly.

"Before I came to Gamindustri I didn't bathe for about a year," he said, seemingly blind to the looks of disgust he was getting from Cave and anyone else in earshot of the conversation. "Why, is it a bad thing, or summat?"

"You're going to fall seriously ill," Cave scolded, "And what if you were to become injured? The amount of bacteria on your body would surely cause an infection." Jack just shrugged.

"Probably, but considerin' the fact I've wedged these size elevens up the arseholes of a considerable number of 'dangerous' monsters, I'm not gonna get injured, am I?" He finished by pelting the revolver in a random direction, watching it disappear into data and return to his disk. "You worry too much."

Cave just frowned at his bravado.

It was going to get him, or someone else, seriously hurt.

For a moment, she wrestled with the thought, then RKO'd it to the back of her mind and began thinking about the time. It was five o' clock sharp. Considering the amount of people using the Planeptune personal travel system, it was probably the rush to get home at the end of work. Since that was the case, she could assume that this 'Compa' girl was probably headed home from wherever she worked.

She'd probably be there when they arrived.

_**An hour later, at Compa's flat...**_

"This is quite frankly ludicrous," Cave grumbled, shifting her position slightly so she was leaned against Jack's shoulder. Since their arrival, there had been no Compa, which meant Jack and Cave had opted to sit down in the corridor in front of Compa's apartment whilst they waited. For the first ten minutes, they had been talking about whatever it was that two psychopaths would discuss. Then after that, conversation dried up.

Jack withdrew each of his guns and began expertly cleaning them with a speed and efficiency that Cave struggled to keep up with. She decided to message the others.

Finally, Jack put the RPD back into his disk, stood up, and began to walk down the hall. Cave sat up. "Where are you going, Mr. Glovebox?" she asked. Jack glanced over his shoulder at her as he walked.

"Off for a wander," he replied. "You could probably stay there, if you wanted." Cave was about to go after him, but then realized: He couldn't really go that far, could he?

Nodding, Cave relaxed and continued to fiddle with her phone as Jack began to head down the stairs towards the apartment building's lobby. Once more, he received looks of bewilderment from the short women that populated the lobby, and he disregarded all of them. After exiting the lobby, he made his way to the side of the glass double-doors, and sat on one of the short brick walls that surrounded the building, as a way of containing plants.

Once he'd sat himself down, he sighed, and stared miserably ahead with his hands in his pockets. He contemplated what he had in his bag that he could mess about with that wouldn't get him arrested.

He had some cigarettes and vodka, but he'd never had alcohol or cigarettes before. Not knowing his drinking limits was slightly scary, so he opted to just push aside the thoughts of being a Slav. Plus, he didn't really want to get into smoking. He decided that both amenities would be used as bargaining items in case he met any other guys from Earth.

He had his machete and his combat knife. Perhaps he could sharpen them? But then again, doing that would probably cause a noise disturbance and maybe get him arrested. Damn. Off the list.

Perhaps he could work on the G.B.F.O.G plans?

Wait, he had no idea how he could get it to function after he'd modified the plans to make it man-portable. Bugger.

He groaned, and leaned back slightly, arching his back. "This _relaxin'_ bullshit's harder than I thought..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head as he leaned forwards again. He received s few looks from passers-by, but he ignored them as usual. How were people still not used to him? He'd been around long enough.

For a few more minutes, he wrestled with the thought of trying a cigarette to see if he liked them, but before he could even consider whipping out a death stick and lighting up, he saw a certain adorable, pink-haired blob shuffle into view from around the street corner. Jack smiled, standing, and began to walk towards Compa.

As he got closer, however, he noticed that something seemed..._off_ about her. She looked really tired, mixed with sadness. Her arms were hung by her side, and she was trudging along without even a hint of the energy he'd known her for. The fluffy hair he'd known her for looked rather dishevelled, and her clothing looked crumpled. For a moment, he doubted it really was Compa.

Hesitantly, he spoke up as she approached. "Hi, Compa," he greeted. At the sound of her name being said, the nurse paused in her tracks with a rather bleary-eyed expression on her face. Upon sighting her tall male friend, she offered a drowsy smile and extended her arms out.

"Mr. Lunny!" she yawned, still smiling as she shuffled forward to hug him. Jack accepted the hug, crouching slightly to reciprocate it. "Sorry if I'm a little slow...work's been hard, lately..." Jack patted her back, releasing the hug.

"No worries," he replied. "Apparently I was workin' too hard, so the CPUs put me on holiday. And so here I am." Compa nodded slowly, rubbing one of her eyes and yawning _again_, which started setting off alarm bells in Jack's head. "Alright, Compa. You can barely keep your eyes open. I'm gonna carry you up to your apartment, alright? Don't want you passin' out on the way up there."

The nurse smiled, offering no resistance to Jack picking her up. "_Yaaaay_..." she murmured, before shifting slightly to get comfier. The smaller woman curled up in his arms, using his bicep as a pillow and hugging her arms to her chest. Once she was secure, Jack began to walk back through the lobby, the number of looks he got doubling from when he was alone. As he walked, he spoke out to ease their concerns.

"She's tired," he said flatly, not even looking at them. "I'm takin' her to her flat." The looks didn't cease, and as he headed up the stairs he was fairly certain he could hear the police being dialled.

Whilst he made his way down the corridor to the next flight of stairs, he looked down at the snoozing Compa cradled in his arms like a baby.

God.

She was _so_ fucking adorable.

She was light to carry (_Maybe it was because all the level grinding had turned him into Gainsley Harriot, Mayor of Gainsville and Bringer of Banter_), wore a cute woolly jumper, had fluffy hair, and was probably _the_ most friendly person he'd met so far (_Even Uni had a tendency to sometimes snap at him if he said something idiotic: Compa would just politely tell him he was wrong_).

In his list of favourite Gamindustrians, Compa was easily second or third. It really depended what Chika was doing and if it was that time of the month for her again. So, at that time, Compa was probably second: Chika's last text to him that said "_oh shit it's sticky trouser jam time brb_" was a bit of an indicator that he probably wouldn't want to speak to her for a week, at least.

Just as he started on the next flight of stairs, Compa shifted again, snuggling into his chest slightly. "_You're really warm, Mr. Lunny..._" she sighed contentedly. "_Can you sleep with me in my bed, tonight...?_" At that comment, Jack mentally scoffed, and began mentally questioning why everyone suddenly wanted to snuggle with him. He shook his head as he approached Compa's apartment, throwing Cave the keys to the door.

He was the most hard-arse fighter in Gamindustri! He had kicked so much arse that he was the fifth highest-level individual in Lowee, with the only four above him being the CPUs themselves! He'd fought Soviet gangsters, dragons, Fenrirs, and hordes of enemies so tough that even the S.A.S would back down!

And besides, he'd already snuggled with Uni. That was more than enough snuggles for one week.

As he headed into the apartment, Jack set himself some objectives.

Wave off Cave.

Lock apartment.

Put Compa into her bed.

Prepare for the next day, where he'd head off to the basilicom.

Simple.

_**The next morning...**_

Jack's head felt fuzzy.

Why was he in a bed? Christ, he was buggering up his own one-hour-every-three-days sleep cycle!

As opened his eyes fully, he tried to remember what he did the night before.

He could remember Cave saying she was going to check in with Miss Histoire at the basilicom. Right. That was a definite.

He remembered locking the apartment. That was for certain; He remembered that he'd moved a chair in front of the door.

Then he..._sort of_ remembered putting Compa into bed. Anything after that was blank.

Frowning, he tried to sit up, then paused.

Shit, the bed was pretty comfy.

He looked around. At least he knew it was Compa's apartment; He recognized the room he was in as the one he'd commandeered the last time he was staying with her. Hell, he could even remember _exactly_ where he'd laid his shotguns when he was asleep.

So at what point did he pass out?

Just as he was attempting to sit up, the door creaked open, revealing the adorable, beaming face of his host. "Good morning, Mr. Lunny!" chirped the nurse as she walked calmly into the room with a tray in her hands. Jack blinked.

"When did I go to sleep?" he asked.

Compa thought for a minute, setting down the platter of breakfast food she was carrying. "Uh..." She was squinting in an attempt at recollecting, before smiling. "Oh yeah! It was right after I gave you a little jab with my needle. You slept like a baby, after that. And y'know, for someone armed with loads of weapons and a vocabulary that would probably scare IF, you're really adorable when you're sleeping. Like a big, cuddly bear."

Jack was utterly speechless.

Was he meant to punch her?

She'd _drugged him._ With a fucking _needle_. He hated needles.

Remaining as calm as possible, Jack frowned. "Why the hell did you fuckin' drug me?" he snapped. Compa recoiled slightly, a nervous smile on her face.

"Ah, aha, well, y'see, Histy got told by Nep-Nep that you weren't sleeping that much, and apparently Histy took it upon herself to see that you get some rest. So she told me to make sure you slept properly for at least a night or so." Compa shifted side to side slightly. "So, uh, the easiest way I could think of to do that was to give you a little jabby with my needle, and tuck you in all nice and snug."

"But weren't you absolutely shattered from yesterday? How'd you find energy to put me into a bed?"

"The thing is, Mr. Lunny; I wasn't really tired. That was me pretending. Your friend Cave sent Histy a message saying you'd both showed up, then she sent me that message, so I guessed she wanted me to do something." Compa began unfolding some legs on the tray, standing it over Jack's lap without asking first. "That means I was all fine and dandy, but just pretending to be sleepy. Also, your chest is really hard but your arms are so soft."

"That's 'cause you were leanin' your head on Kevlar body armour," Jack replied, staring blankly at the foods placed over his lap. Looked like an English breakfast, really.

Except the cook wasn't a greasy fat bloke behind a café counter that kept scratching his sweaty arse with the spatula he was using to flip food whilst telling you all about the rugby match from last night.

"What's this?" Jack asked. Compa smiled, and sat at the foot of the bed, before swinging her legs up and sitting cross-legged in front of him.

"Oh, just breakfast in bed," she said proudly, as Jack began eating the bacon with his hands whilst completely disregarding the knife and fork. "That red-haired lady you were with told Histy that you're on holiday right now, and she said you were struggling to enjoy your time off, so I thought maybe today, I could help you find stuff to do and enjoy your free time. There's plenty of shops around that you might like, Mr. Lunny!" Jack nodded, listening whilst he ate. "But before that, I'd probably say it would be a good idea to get you cleaned up. Your red-head friend told Histoire you haven't bathed for about a month, so...yeah, I think you should probably have a bath, or something..." Jack nodded slowly, chewing some bacon.

"Uh-huh." There was silence as he continued eating. Finally, after about five minutes, he spoke again. "Why'd you feel the need to use a needle on me?"

Compa cleared her throat. "It's, uh, effective, I guess?"

"I hate needles."

"So do most of my patients, but they take them anyway. Besides, you said you've been shot and stabbed before, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

"Yeah," Jack cut in, "But I still hate needles. There's summat about them that I really, _really_ hate. I dunno what it is. I can watch people bein' stabbed, decapitated, burned alive, shot to death, or crushed by a tank...hell, I _laugh_ at those sorta videos. But anythin' with needles...needles are just...no." Compa nodded slowly, looking confused.

"OK...so...how was it you said you were trained to stitch yourself back together?"

"With a pointy object and a stringy object. Like electrical cable, and a screwdriver head."

"So basically a needle and thread."

Jack paused. "...debatable."

"You were told how to use a needle and thread to close injuries, right?" Compa continued, ignoring him. "And you said you faced gunfire quite often and got stabbed a few times. Why's a little needle something to worry about? You zonked out right after." Jack gave a flat stare at her.

"Compa, I have a sleepin' cycle to stick by," he began, "An hour of sleep, every three days. That's how I got trained."

"And that kind of punishment on your body is enough to make you go a little bit crazy." She paused, looking down with a serious expression. "People do some really bad things when they're sleep deprived and in tough situations, but it's not always...their fault..." Her voice began to trail off, and her face hardened into what Jack saw as a thousand-yard stare. He swallowed the toast he was eating, stared at her in confusion for another moment, then cleared his throat.

"Uh...Compa?" he said curiously. "You alright, lass?" The nurse seemed slightly shaken up, before looking at him and grinning.

"Oh! I'm...fine! Just some bad memories I got reminded of for a minute there."

Again, Jack nodded slowly.

"...right then...?"

_**A few hours later...**_

After they'd both travelled to the public bath (_It took a half hour of coaxing to get Jack to just get in the bath and stop squirming under the gazes of a bunch of random women, who were equally as uncomfortable when they watched Jack scraping a thick layer of dry blood from his torso and bandaging himself up_), Compa and Jack headed towards the basilicom. Since it was a weekend and she was only at work during the week, Compa was on her time off. That meant she had also decided to call up IF and asked her to meet them outside the Planeptune basilicom.

Jack and Compa stood on the hexagonal floaty things that were taking them to the basilicom. Jack was constantly withdrawing various weapons and fiddling with them, much to the concern of those nearby, and Compa. "Why do you have so many guns?" she asked innocently. Jack shrugged, aiming down the AK's sights and zeroing it on a passing lamppost.

"Because guns are fuckin' awesome," he replied casually, racking the bolt and readjusting the sights again once he realized he hadn't done it right. "Back where I'm from, I never would've even seen one of these beauties, let alone carried it every day like a manbag. So imagine how great it feels to carry around eight different guns that'd make Theresa May shit a fuckin' brick and go whingin' to parliament about inadequate gun laws." Compa stared blankly at him.

"I don't know what any of that even meant, but OK, whatever you say, Mr. Lunny."

Jack made a 'pfft' noise, and chucked the AK over his shoulder, returning it to his disk.

Upon finally reaching the basilicom, Jack caught sight of a certain brunette with a giant coat already waiting at the entrance. Upon sighting Compa advancing through the crowds towards the basilicom, IF looked fairly happy, before she noticed Jack and looked quite unhappy. Jack couldn't figure out why, though. Compa, meanwhile, waved to her childhood friend, picking up into a light skip as she approached. "Hi, Iffy!" beamed the nurse.

Unusually, IF offered no response. Though Jack hadn't even seen her since she went to hospital a month before, he was fairly certain she wasn't normally this angry-looking. Usually, she was fairly miserable, but not angry.

As he and Compa approached, IF picked up some speed in her walking to keep alongside them. They waited two minutes for the elevator, then boarded. IF's face set dead serious as it rose up, glaring at Jack.

Before he or Compa could react, Iffy had reeled back, raised her fist, and...

Jack slipped his hands into his pockets, staring confusedly at IF's fist that was planted into his stomach. Compa looked at them both in a mix of horror and confusion. IF was biting her lip, _definitely_ holding back some tears.

Jack raised a brow.

"...Miss IF, I hope you realize that you just punched solid Kevlar, right?"

IF whimpered and slowly nodded, moving her fist back shakily and clutching the pained appendage to her stomach as Compa rushed to her side to check the injury.

"I-Iffy!" yelped the nurse. "Why'd you try and punch Mr. Lunny?! He didn't do anything!" IF, shakily, looked up.

"_H-He hospitalized me for a MONTH...!_" she hissed, clearly struggling not to burst into tears. Compa stared at her in bewilderment, trying to see the hand despite IF holding it to her chest like she didn't want to show it.

Dammit! Why was she being so irrational?!

Jack removed his right hand, scratching his chin with a confused expression on his face. "In fairness, I probably should've warned you about Deagle recoil," he mused. "Might've made a difference if I'd just said not to use it in case you hurt yourself, but...y'know. Bit late for that, now." IF let out a growling noise as Compa glared back at Jack.

"How can you be so mean, Mr. Lunny?" scolded the nurse, prompting the man to shrug.

"I support misanthropy and like the idea of asociality so much that I've been doing it for years," he replied casually, adjusting his bandoliers in the manner he normally would in moments of idleness. Compa shook her head, and attempted to calm IF down. The smaller woman, meanwhile, narrowed her damp eyes at Jack.

"_I...I'll get you back for it one day..._" she muttered under her breath. "_And I'll do it in front of EVERYONE..._"


	27. London gets pulled apart by Histy

After signing in at the Basilicom, Jack was ordered by Histoire to follow her into a guest bedroom. Confused at the request, Jack matched her floating speed to keep alongside her whilst they navigated down several hallways, Compa and IF in tow. "Miss Histoire," Jack began, "Didn't I already make it pretty clear that you didn't need to get me a guest bedroom? If you needed me at the Basilicom, I could just sleep outside." The fairy kept a stern expression, leading the group onwards.

"This does not regard your lodging here," Histoire replied flatly. "This is in regards to a request by Oracle Chika of Leanbox." Jack sighed immediately, knowing what it was, and placed his hands in his pockets.

"Look, as much as I appreciate the notion, I don't need a psy-"

"You can try to argue, Mr. Lovebun, but I think the evidence against that claim is _quite_ enough to prove you do need a psychological examination." Jack let out his 'Pah' of disagreement as IF and Compa shared a nervous glance.

"Evidence? Let's hear it, then."

"You committed a mass murder under the guise of vigilante justice."

Compa went sheet white. IF looked completely disgusted and shocked. Both dropped about five feet back from London.

"Shit, that news travelled fast." Jack scratched his chin. "Wait, it's been about two weeks. Fuck."

"You broke down crying in front of Oracle Chika, and she calmed you down."

"What, a bloke's not allowed to cry, anymore? Fuck kind of world is this?"

"You've made multiple threats against your comrades."

"Wow, because that's not something called 'bante-"

"You broke your friend's nose."

"He was askin' for it."

"To top all this off, your recent online searches for _'How to rip and tear like the pros' _and _'Uncensored pictures of huge guts'_ have made this exam mandatory, going by international anti-terrorism laws." Jack's eyes went slightly wider.

"Shite, you lot can read my internet history?" he asked. Histoire stopped outside a door, looking at him with a slightly disgusted expression.

"Yes. We can read _all_ of it."

Jack swallowed slightly.

"O-Oh. Uh, shit."

_'She knows too much. But how do I know where to dump tiny fairy bodies without searching it up on Nepgeargle?_'

"Now then," Histoire continued, gesturing to the doorway, "If you'd like to step this way, Mr. Lovebun." Wondering why she seemed so hostile that day, Jack complied, crouching through the small doorway and into a room that seemed to have been converted into a makeshift psychiatrist's office. One of the chairs was a long, reclined couch, with a small table beside it. The bed had been stowed away in the corner, and the fireplace of the room was lit.

Jack questioned why literally every single room in every single basilicom had a fireplace, and wondered about the fire safety implications that such articles had. Nevertheless, he entered, then stood in the middle of the room as Histoire followed inside. As she entered, the fairy turned around at the door and looked at IF and Compa. "If you two don't mind, I might request that you find other entertainment for the duration of Lovebun's exam. This is a confidential matter."

Compa looked slightly quizzical. "But you're just asking him questions."

"With confidential answers," Histoire replied.

That seemed more than good enough for the nurse, who let out an understanding '_oooh_' and turned to begin wandering down the hallway. IF gave a nod to Histoire, turning to walk away. "Alright, if you say so, Miss Histoire. Just call us if you need anything."

"I will."

With that, Histoire shut the door, and turned to Jack. "Please sit on the couch." Jack shrugged.

"Uh...why?"

"It has been proven that reclined seats allow people to feel more relaxed when answering questions," she replied, floating over to him. "So please, lie down in the chair." After a hesitation, he slowly sat on the chair, a loud wooden creak being the response.

"Well, fuck me, that doesn't sound right..." Jack mused, looking down at the seat. He glanced at the fairy in front of him. "You sure this thing can take my weight?"

"Yes, I'm certain it can. This brand of couch is capable of withstanding the weight of larger Gamindustrians with ease." Histoire was flipping through a notebook, a tiny quill in hand and a teeny-tiny pair of glasses balanced on the tip of her adorable little nose. "I'm sure it will be fine." Once again hesitating, Jack steadily laid down on the couch, loud creaking emanating from it. Once he'd gotten settled, the creaking subsided, and he stared up at the ceiling.

God. He was already feeling uncomfortable.

After a moment's silence, Histoire cleared her throat, and withdrew a sound recorder. "If you don't mind, Mr. Glovebox, I would appreciate the opportunity to record this session for future study."

"Alright, fine by me."

_Click._

"May I begin by asking your name?"

"It's London. Jack London. Nobody can pronounce it, for some bloody reason."

"How old are you?"

"...mentally, same age as a fifty-year old SAS veteran. Physically, about twenty or thirty."

"I would prefer a more exact age."

"Not even hit my twenties, and already too old. We gonna proceed?"

"Very well. You have previously mentioned that you have experience in the military. Would you care to expand on this?"

"Fine by me. Over the course of two years, they removed any trace of my history from Earth, then trained me really goddamn hard. It was almost inhumane: I got shot, stabbed, beaten, punched, drowned twice, waterboarded, electrocuted, set on fire, gassed, and forced to fight dangerous animals and people, every day, for about a year and a half. They called it the 'SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES' training programme, a conglomeration of all the trainin' that the world's most dangerous operators underwent, all rolled into one easy-to-pronounce package." Histoire nodded, writing it all down.

"Do you ever feel as if your training has affected you in a negative way?"

"Sort of," Jack shrugged, scratching his chin. "Because it all focused on how to be a merciless arse-kicker, there was no trainin' in social skills. A lot of the trainers would just beat me for the sake of beatin' me, and there was nowhere for me to complain about it because I legally wasn't a person anymore: No records indicated I even existed. I guess because of that, I've sort of come to expect that at any time, a person in a position of power will just turn around and beat me...and that sort of scares me. Maybe that's why I'm slightly on edge when I'm around the CPUs for too long, and why I react badly when they start threatenin' me. I guess I'm just conditioned to fear my superiors."

Histoire frowned at this. "I...I see." For a moment, she wrote this down, then circled it. "And how about your responses to threat and pain? Most eyewitness accounts have stated that you seem to show little-to-no fearful traits in dangerous situations, or are laughing when taking impacts." She glanced up at him. "Is this some form of masochism?" Jack sighed.

"...I...I don't know." He rubbed his face. "Maybe. If it was, I don't realize that I look like I'm enjoyin' it. The only thing I know that I enjoy is wipin' out hordes of enemies without help, and at my own, high speed."

"Is there a chance that you developed an appeal towards sadomasochism during your training?"

"If I had to guess, then yeah. I've always enjoyed the idea of usin' violence to solve issues. For some reason, it appeals to me more than lettin' a bunch of politicians stand about and spend weeks decidin' on how to deal with a problem maker." His expression hardened. "Best to just nail the perpetrators down for what they did, and make their life hell."

The fairy nodded. "Then you believe capital punishment is an acceptable practice?"

"Short answer, yeah. There's just some crimes you don't deserve to walk away scot-free from. Back home, you'd get people in jail for life, and their cell'd be closer to a home than it was to a personal hell. The way I see it is the same as the way my Mum saw it: The minute you take someone else's life, you lose your human rights."

"A tad extreme. Do you not feel as if that system could be flawed due to false accusations?"

"Everything's flawed, Miss Histoire." Jack looked up at her. "I'm flawed. You're flawed. All people are flawed. The minute you think that a person or thing is perfect, then you rethink that, right then and there. A perfect exterior is normally there to cover up summat so unthinkably horrifyin' that nobody could ever think that such things were possible." He grinned at Histoire's troubled expression. "That's why I act like I do. I know I ain't perfect; I understand I have ins and outs. I'm a dickhead. I'm vulgar. I'm violent. The last few years of my life've been the most punishing thing that any human should ever be subjected to, and the only way I cope is by keepin' in mind that there's people who didn't have to put up with that because they didn't deserve it."

Histoire stared at him.

That was a _lot_ to take in.

"...if...if I may ask, Mr. Glovebox," she began, clearing her throat. "You briefly mentioned how you believed that you 'deserved' that year of training." There was a silence. "...why do you feel you deserved such inhuman treatment?"

Jack swallowed hard, remembering the conversation he'd had with Noire. He wasn't telling that again, especially considering that this entire exam was being recorded. He cleared his throat, and shifted in the seat. "...y'know what, Miss Histoire? I think we should skip this question. It-It's more backstory, than anythin'." He flashed her a smile. "Nothin' you should worry about."

There was a long, painful silence.

Histoire adjusted her glasses.

"Next question. It's well-known that you stepped in during an armed robbery in Downtown Leanbox. Would you say this was the first time you'd actually employed your skills in a public place?"

"In public, no. I'd already taken down an entire field of Dogoos with Uni, and a few villagers were watching that. Their reactions said they didn't really appreciate my type over there in Lastation: Almost like they didn't like how I was givin' a first-person account of how I was killin' my enemies. Apparently, they're more partial to writin' stories over there: Third person accounts of action and adventure."

"So you didn't feel like you fit in well with Lastation?"

"Not really. Felt like I was out of place."

"Yet Leanbox is reasonably similar, and you enjoy it there?"

"You're damn right I do. They welcomed me and James with open arms. Their guild work isn't against letting you get bloody, and most of the monsters I was fightin' were practically demons. Besides that, I've had a few people askin' for me to write my biography and publish it there. Leanbox sure loves their first-person stories."

"Noted. Now, a few weeks ago in Leanbox, you had a hand in solving a hostage crisis alongside Ms. Cave, which ended with six of yo-"

"Yeah, I know how many I killed," Jack cut in sharply. "What of it?"

"According to Oracle Chika of Leanbox, you suffered a breakdown over this incident's outcome."

"I didn't expect that I would end up killin' them. Up until that point, I was able to shoot people in the head with a Desert Eagle and it would only knock them out. Then, suddenly..." Jack paused, frowning. "...suddenly, I'd...I'd blown a man's skull open. He wasn't comin' back, and that's what fuckin' terrified me. I'd _ended_ his life, and then killed five more people. I mean...shit..." Histoire looked worriedly at Jack's thousand yard stare at the ceiling, noting it down on a fresh page.

"Mr. Lovebun, if this topic makes you uncomfortable, we _can_ skip over it..."

"Uh...r-right." He chuckled slightly. "Yeah, probably best we do that, eh?"

"Of course. This next section is in regards to your relations with Gamindustri's people. As you've mentioned, you feel that you fit in better with Leanbox than anywhere else. Why do you feel this way?"

"They're more welcomin' to people of my type, I suppose. Lowee practically shuns people who enact any types of violence on a daily basis. Apparently, their nation's above that kind of thing, and tends to gravitate towards supportin' families, not fighters: You kinda figure that out when their entire Guild work roster is fetch quests. Planeptune's been pretty much neutral on it, and so's Lastation. But in Leanbox, most of the work they offer to people involves killin' _summat_, and the Guild Office workers are always pretty excited whenever I walk through the door."

"I see. And you have good relations with the Oracle of Leanbox?"

"Absolutely. I'd say Chika's the closest thing I have to a best friend in this world. We're practically the same person. Except, y'know...she's not absolutely clapped, and I am."

"Have you ever had thoughts about being romantically close to her?"

"Woah, where's this comin' from?" Jack sat up slightly, but Histoire was quick to place a tiny hand on his shoulder. He paused, looked at it for a moment, then sighed, lying back again. "...I-I've only thought about it...like, _once_ when I first met her. A-And that's it."

"And what of any of the other Gamindustrians you encounter on a regular basis?"

"What about them?"

"Have you ever felt as if you were making romantic connections with any of them?"

Jack hesitated.

"I don't...I don't even know what that feels like, to be honest." Histoire raised a brow.

"You've never felt affectionate about anybody?"

"Miss Histoire, 'affection' and 'love' are different things..." Jack hesitated when he saw Histoire's raised brow. "...I _think_. I feel a lot of _affection_ for Uni, since she's practically the younger sister I couldn't..." He paused again. _Best not to bring that up_. "...have ever had, but I don't _love_ her in a romantic way. I love her almost as family, but I wouldn't do romantic things for her, if that's makin' sense."

"I understand completely. What of her sister, however? Lady Noire? According to a video uploaded to UniTube a few days ago by your friend Mr. Hillman, you and her were caught in the moments before you were about to ki-"

"She had some shit on her face!" Jack snapped, folding his arms.

"Your NepChat also shows that you and Lady Vert appear to hug quite often."

"I don't ever get a choice in the matter, but she does it anyway."

"Yet you don't push her away."

"Because I know it's a friendly gesture."

"Then would you mind explaining your 'friendly gesture' of massaging Oracle Chika's back on the Leanbox basilicom balcony?"

Jack swallowed hard.

"...that...that was...uh..." He thought for a second. "...look, if I didn't do it, she'd bitch at me for the rest of the day, alright? She said I was good at it, too, so technically she was helpin' me realize one of my talents."

The fairy nodded slowly, smirking. "Of course..."

"And why's any of this matter to you? This is mostly about my private life! Are you even a qualified fuckin' psychiatrist? Because I have my fuckin' doubts!"

Histoire sucked air through her teeth, and looked at her notes again. "Now...another note that Oracle Chika made was that you often fiddle with your weaponry if your hands are not preoccupied. Is this because you're ensuring that you are prepared in the event of an emergency?"

"Partly that," Jack replied, "And partly because everything I carry with me on a daily basis would have gotten me life in prison back in England. Right now, I'm carryin' four full-automatic weapons, a pump action shotgun, a break-action shotgun, four high-caliber handguns, three different types of knives, a pair of brass knuckles, and my raw, bloody knuckles, and all with no licenses. Even one of those would've put me at Her Majesty's pleasure, and I'm packin' fourteen of the damn things. I guess it's my way of feelin' truly free, when I just whip out an AK and start sighting it because I damn-well can."

Histoire gave a slow, contemplative nod. "Then it's an almost vengeful act against your previous home?"

"You're damn right it is."

"Yet there is a chance you will never see that place again. Why do you feel that acts of vengeance against it are necessary?"

"Because now I'm free."

"Free from what?"

"The old system I lived in. Back then, I was just 'some guy'. I studied Drama and Media. I played video games in my free time, and that was the closest I could get to excitement, and the rush of danger. But look at me now. I'm almost six foot, I have enough firepower to kill half of Hell, and I'm copin' with it just fine." After a few moments, Histoire finished writing that down. "Anythin' else you need to ask?" The fairy hesitated.

"Yes...though these may be delving back into 'personal' territory."

"Go on, ask. You won't know 'til you've asked."

"According to your companion, Miss Cave, you seem to become a different person entirely when you're wearing less garments than normal."

Jack's face suddenly went hot. "O-Oh...r-really?"

"Allegedly. She mentioned how you seemed like a 'deer in the headlights' when she spoke to you at the public baths. Is there a reason for this?"

"...I...I just...u-uh..."

Histoire couldn't help but smirk slightly. Miss IF was right: It really _was_ some teenage fear of girls.

"Um...I've...I've not _really_ had that sort of view of a girl, before...s-so...uh...yeah..."

"Additionally, a conversation with Oracle Chika stated that when she spoke softly in your ear whilst holding your shoulders, you quietened down almost instantly and your posture tensed considerably." Jack was sweating at this point. "Going by my experience, this tends to mean that you have focused mostly on dealing with problems in an up-front way and dealing with constant pains, yet your body is unsure how to to respond when no situations have arisen, or when you receive pleasurable sensations. Do you feel this holds some truth?"

"Uh...uh! N-No!" he snapped, shifting in the seat. "That...that's...j-just...a reflex!" Histoire smiled at him further. "Sh-She caught me off guard! Th-That's all!"

"So you feel that this is one of your only real weaknesses, besides psychological breakdowns?"

"...I'm...I'm not answerin' that."

"I'll just put that as 'yes', for future reference."

"Fuck yo-"

"This next question regards your views on the CPUs."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, composing himself once more.

"Fine. This, I can deal with."

"What are your views on Lady Neptune?"

"She's alright, I suppose," he replied, scratching his head. "Not really had much contact, but she's alright, I guess."

"Do you feel she is a good leader?"

"Well, apparently you do most of the paperwork. You told me a while back that she just sits and dicks around whilst you run the nation. So, I dunno."

Histoire smiled. "Indeed, I do most of the work in the basilicom. Do you have any feelings regarding Nepgear?"

"I've spoken to her about three times. Once on the first encounter, the second time was that night where you wanted to see my gear, and the third was when we had a bit of a chinwag about the merits of mechanized warfare. She said that mech suits should have _less_ armour, and I told her that they needed more, because fightin' them wouldn't look as cool if they went down too fast. Aside from that, she's a clever young lass with good manners. I can see her becomin' a fantastic leader at some point."

"I'm glad to hear that." Histoire scribbled this down. Jack noticed that she struggled to hold the pen because she was so tiny. It was adorable. "Moving on, please describe your opinion of Lady Noire."

"Well, she _is_ the CPU I had to pledge allegiance to so that I could gain citizenship," Jack began, moving his hands for emphasis. "It's part of the documents I signed to say that I have to trust her. Thus far, I'm not seein' any reason not to. She's created free healthcare, free gas and electric, free education, and Lastation's unemployment rating is pretty bloody low. Not only that, but once you crack the hard, sociopathic exterior that's basically just Patrick Bateman but slightly more bitchy, then she's alright. Can't see any reason to dislike her. And Uni's great, too."

"So I hear." Histoire continued to write. She looked like she was slightly tired from writing, since she seemed to be struggling with the pen. "From what everyone tells me, you hold both Lastation sisters in _very_ high regard."

"Why wouldn't I? Noire's a great leader that looks a bit like a supermodel, and Uni's her adorable little sister with the itchy trigger finger."

More silence followed, filled with the pen scratching on paper.

"Please explain your views on Lady Blanc."

"Same as Neptune. I didn't really hear about much of Lowee's politics scene, and that's maybe because it's pretty hushed up. I'm pretty sure Lady Blanc does a whole bunch of work herself, then you've got Oracle Nishizawa doin' a bunch, too. Plus, now they've got James to help keep Rom and Ram amused. I think they're doin' pretty well." He hesitated. "Actually, I think Lady Blanc could probably do with lookin' after Rom and Ram a wee bit more. She has the same problem that Noire had, in that she doesn't interact with them enough. They're her _sisters_, for God's sake, the least she could do is read some books to them or play with them every once in a while." Steadily, Histoire got it all down.

"Finally, I would like your input on Leanbox's politics."

"Ahhh..." Jack closed his eyes and grinned. "Well, to start, that place is a fuckin' Capitalist's dream. In Leanbox, what I learned is that you can work as hard as you fuckin' well want, and you get the paycheck to prove it. You can own whatever you want, drive what you want, live where you want, and do what you want, so long as you've got the bank account to make it happen. It's the kind of country I'd give _anything_ to live in." He looked at Histoire again. "Anywhere else, the Guild decides what you fight for. In Leanbox, you can fight for what _**you**_ believe in: Not for a company, or a nation, or for anyone else."

"Mmhmm. Is it possible that you think this because you're so popular over there?"

"Nah, I don't feel like I'm being biased. It's a great country. It's like I'd imagined America to be before I actually went to Florida that one time. Leanbox _is_ what every country strives to be."

"Then you think highly of Lady Vert?"

"Absolutely. If she's managed to make her country into an insanely powerful and incredibly prosperous superpower single-handedly, then I've got _huge_ respect for her."

"What of Oracle Chika?"

"Basically one of my best friends. When I first showed up here, I didn't think anyone else would be able to match my level of sarcasm, slight racism, questionable political views, and hatred of political correctness. But that's who she is. Chika Hakozaki: Literally just Jack London with green hair and tits." Histoire concealed a laugh. "Anyway, I spend about 60% of my free time in Leanbox with her, just because we get on together so well."

"From what I understand, you two seem incredibly comfortable around each other. Does this explain why you issue massages to her, and why she almost always sits next to you when possible?"

"Uh...probably?"

Histoire let out a quiet 'hmm', finally tapping down the pen. "Alright, Mr. Glovebox, I think that's all I have to ask you," she said finally, putting the pen down with a sigh and rolling her shoulders. "I'll get you the results of your test soon."

Jack nodded, standing up. "No worries. How long's 'soon', if I may ask? We talkin' tomorrow, the day after, later today...?"

"About three days."

"Fuck me."

"It takes time to gain an accurate final result!" Histoire said huffily, folding her arms. "Besides, I need to rest. My arms are tired from writing so much in such a short space of time..."

"You didn't have any form to holdin' the pen and tried to write too fast, 's why," Jack explained, raising Histoire's brow. "If you'd've just taken your time, I'd've been more than happy to repeat what I said. You just need to calm it down: Your tiny, adorable little arms aren't cut out for so much hard labour." The fairy slowly looked down at her hands.

They hurt like all Hell, just like her biceps and forearms. He was right: She _really_ needed to keep it calm.

"I...appreciate the advice, Mr. Glovebox."

"No worries."

"If I may ask, how do you know so much about handling long objects for extended periods?" Jack shot her a look.

"Ain't it obvious? I'm a rifleman. I handle guns all the time. If I don't have the posture and grip right, the recoil'll break my wrist." He gestured to her. "You would probably get RSI in your entire arm at the rate you're goin'."

She smiled, putting her glasses away. "So you know about biology?" she asked. "I never took you for someone who was interested in the nuances of the body."

"I had to learn it," he shrugged. "Otherwise, how would I know which parts of the skull I can punch through?"

Histoire sighed.

"...of...of course. Now then, since the examination is over, you're free to go. Miss Compa said she wanted to take you to the Planeptune Markets, and Miss IF normally follows Compa wherever she goes. Perhaps you three can get to know each other over a day of shopping?"

Jack smoothed through his hair. "Well, sounds fine by me. Can't be any worse than Camden."


	28. SHTF

In spite of all the things he'd seen in Gamindustri, Jack couldn't help but feel amazed by the sheer scale of the Planeptune Markets. Almost as far as the eye could see, the massive skyscraper stretched up from the ground, each floor containing all manner of stores and shops. The crowds were pretty well-populated, around the sides, so he felt like a lot of people were watching him walk through the front doors beside the large group of women that had come along for the trip: MAGES., Tekken, IF, Falcom, Nepgear, Cave, and Compa. He didn't even know Compa or IF knew any of them, besides Cave, who insisted on tagging along.

Had he accidentally made contact with each member of a secret society of some kind?

Seemingly ignorant of the looks people were giving her big male friend, Compa led the way towards a set of tables offset to the right of the entrance, with Jack following along behind them. Compa stopped next to a table, and set herself down in a chair as the others crowded round. "Alright, Mr. Lunny," she began cheerfully. "When the girls and I go shopping, normally we meet back around here once we're finished. Keep your phone handy so that we can call you if anything comes up." Jack gave a nod.

"Got it," he whistled. "Anythin' else?" Compa thought for a minute.

"Ummm..."

"Knowing you, Mr. Loondumb," IF interjected, "Your ideal place'd probably be floors one hundred to one hundred and ten. That's where they sell all kinds of stuff for fighting and dungeon-crawling, and normally where Falcom and I go." Jack grinned at her.

"Well, that's me set, then." Compa smiled up at the group in front of her.

"Great!" she beamed. "I don't really have the cash today, so if something's too big for you to carry, you can just bring it down here and I'll look after it." Falcom frowned.

"You sure, Compa?" she asked. "I can just...y'know, give you some money, if you want. I have too much of it." The nurse shook her head in response.

"I can't just take your money; You're my friend," she stated firmly. "So you go and enjoy your money. Buy yourself something nice!" Falcom looked a little disheartened by the statement, but straightened up again. It was at this point that Jack noticed she was up to his nose in height. God, she really was tall. And athletic looking...

...she could probably kick his arse if she really tried.

"Alright, guys, same as always!" Compa said cheerfully, waving. "See you back here later!" The group of women assembled said their 'Bye' lines, but immediately conglomerated into one group and headed to the elevator at the far end of the building, giggling and talking all the way into the sealed glass container. Jack followed behind as the doors closed.

"So..." he began, eyeing up the rows of buttons. "...where, uh, where are you lot goin'?" MAGES. shrugged slightly.

"I intend to visit the chemicals and ingredients markets," she replied, leaning on her cane slightly. "That starts on floor sixty."

"I'm headed to the same place as you, Loondumb," IF added, reaching into her oversized coat and pulling out her Nep-sized Beretta 92 replica, racking the slide slightly to check it had nothing in the chamber, then putting it away. "I need a new concealed carry piece. My one kind of sucks, now that I think about stopping power, and that sort of thing." She looked at him, glaring slightly. "I'd say that **cannon** of yours is partly to blame for that train of thought." Jack raised a brow, smirking, as he stepped away from the control panel to allow someone else to choose where the glass lift would go. Tekken timidly stepped forward, and pressed the fiftieth floor, then the one-hundredth, then finally the two-hundredth. A few eyes went wide at this. "T-Tekken?!" IF sputtered as the elevator began moving upwards. "Why're you going to the two-hundredth floor?!" Tekken shrugged.

"Well," began the grey-haired woman as she rubbed her bicep awkwardly. "I've been meaning to buy a blindfold to...help me sleep better. So...I figured...why not get one that works?" Jack looked over all the shocked facial expressions of the Neps, not counting the confused faces of Cave and Nepgear. He cleared his throat.

"What's wrong with the two-hundredth floor?" he asked. "What's up there?" Falcom stared at him flatly.

"Let's...let's just say that if you like being whipped and tied up by someone else for your own carnal desires, then you'd love the two-hundredth floor." Jack almost instantly understood, wincing.

"Oh, right..." he muttered, pacing slightly as their ride slowed, reaching the 50th floor. "One-stop bondage shop. Got it. Gonna stay away from there." As the lift doors slid open, MAGES. walked out.

"I will see you all at a later time," she stated calmly. "Until we meet again." Jack offered a small wave as the doors closer, the lift rose, and MAGES. disappeared from view. Then, he paused, and looked at Nepgear. The lilac-haired CPU Candidate was standing at the back of the lift, looking worried, so Jack put his hands in his pockets and stared at her.

"You got anythin' you're here for, Miss Nepgear?" he asked. Nepgear's response came as expected. She jumped slightly, and began looking even more worried.

"U-Um!" she whimpered. "I...I _really_ don't know, I just saw all of you leaving the basilicom and I wanted to feel like I had people to hang out with so I followed you all and I have no idea what I'm doing here." Jack raised a brow and shrugged slightly.

"At least you're honest," he mused, scratching his chin. "You wanna come look at weapons?"

Nepgear hesitated, then nodded.

Jack glanced at Cave. "Et tu, Madame Seins Enormés?" The woman folded her arms and rolled her eyes.

"I understood that," she said flatly. "You did _not_ call me by my name in Ancient Loweean." Jack tilted his head.

"Nah, that was French, love. Got it right, too."

"No, it was Ancient Loweean. And you don't speak it very well."

"Whatever it was, I referred to you as 'Miss Cave'. And I damn well know I did, because I force-studied every language on Earth for three months."

"You didn't."

"Then what'd I say that's got you so pissed off?"

"You called me 'Miss Huge Breasts'."

IF immediately let out a sputtering laugh as Jack stared in her in shock. "Ah, _bollocks_," he muttered, covering his smirk and pacing slightly. "Seems like I'm just losin' touch with languages. Awfully sorry." Cave, however, had an instant counter, as per the usual.

"One thing you don't seem to lose touch with is your perverted obsession with women's chests," she replied calmly. "In fact, you seem to find them irresistible, if I consider what your eyes seem to focus on whenever we converse." Jack dropped his arms to his sides and glared at her. For a second, his eyes looked at her chest, but then he managed to slap himself back to reality and stare at Cave angrily.

Tekken covered her chest defensively, stepping backwards. "_Pervert..._" she whispered, eliciting a sigh from Jack, laugh from IF, worried noises from Nepgear, and a victorious smirk from Cave.

_**A short while later, on the 100th floor...**_

Jack couldn't help but grin at the sheer amount of firepower that a single floor of the supposed tend held in store. As far as the eye could see, the entire floor of the almost convention-center sized room was stocked with stand after stand, each advertising and selling a huge variety of guns, knives, explosives, swords, axes, hammers, rocket launchers, and weaponry of all kinds. The crowds around the stalls didn't look out of place, either; Most of them were women wearing armour, helmets, or masks, and most seemed to be packing heat of some kind.

Upon exiting the elevator, IF was immediately greeted by a few people through waves and small cheers, but those died down as they saw Jack and Nepgear. Whilst he was used to such stares, these ones were..._different_. They weren't awe-filled. They were curious stares. It wasn't people wondering who he was, because they didn't care. All they cared about was how he carried himself, and what he was able to do.

These were Jack's kind of people.

Silently, he followed behind IF, eyeing up the stands to his left and right. "So, where're we headed?" he asked calmly, scratching his chin as _oh fuck was that a magazine-fed rocket launcher he just saw_

"Like I said in the elevator," IF began, glancing only slightly over her shoulder, "I need a new CC weapon. My one doesn't stop anything. So we're going to visit the sales guy I bought this one from to see what he thinks." Jack shrugged.

"Whatever..." he muttered, scratching his head as the group turned a corner at the end of an aisle of stands, then headed towards a market stall that was in the middle of the row. It had a large white-lit translucent glass back, and the words '_Gage's Guns_' in thick red letters above. The back wall was covered in all kinds of weaponry, and the front desk had a sniper rifle casually balanced on it via a bipod.

All of them were tiny in comparison to Jack's weapons. Perhaps they were just built to scale for the Neps?

On the approach to this stand, Jack dropped back and looked at Cave. The redhead offered a brief glance at him, before continuing to look miserably ahead. "Oh, God, every weapon here is tiny," Jack said, regardless of if Cave was paying attention or not. "You're all very small people."

Cave just let out a huff. "You're a big guy," she replied calmly, prompting the man beside her to groan.

"Jesus Christ, we'd almost gone a week without a Bane joke, and you just had to bugger it up." He glared at her. "Fuck you, Cave. Fuck. You."

"You wish you could."

"Hey, that-!"

"That _what_?"

"...I'm not gonna say anythin' else to you. Thought you, of all people, could appreciate that the guns here are tiny..." he muttered, pacing ahead to keep up with IF.

"A weapon's size negatively correlates to the user's sexual organ size," Cave called after him, gaining a few looks from people nearby. "That says a lot about you, Mr. Glovebox." As she continued walking, she noticed a young man in a hoodie and gas mask that was clutching an old wooden bolt-action rifle and a bottle of Loweean Vodka, squatting next to a Planeptune Military Surplus tent. The man was staring blankly at her, so she paused and stared back at him as people continued to walk by.

"_A nuuuu_," began the man in a strange accent that was muffled by the shitty milsurp gasmask on his face, _"Cheeki breeki, iv damke_." Cave raised a brow slowly, then sighed, and shook her head as she walked away.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Karl," she began sternly. "Get out of here. Go get a job." Karl just nodded at her as she left.

_"OK, I guess I'll speak to you later then, Cave,"_ he said, taking the mask's drinking straw and dipping it into the vodka bottle in front of him.

Jack was watching the whole interaction from the nearby market stand that IF had dragged them to, and gave a slightly amused look at Cave as she moved up beside them. "Who's that?" he asked. "One of your mates?" Cave sighed, shaking her head and folding her arms as she assessed the store's wares.

"Not really," she replied. "That was just Kommando Karl. Just someone I went to the military academy with."

"You were in the army?" Jack asked, surprised. Cave nodded.

"One and a half years of intense special forces training."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Hold on, I'm pretty sure I've heard this before, somewhere."

"Out of everyone in the academy, I was the only one to make it into the RRoD," Cave continued. "However, along the way, many of my classmates began to drop out. Karl was one of them." Jack glanced back at the man in question, observing him through the crowds as he squatted in the middle of the floor.

"Well, he doesn't seem to be much different from the average /k/ommando..." he mused, scratching his beard.

"As far as I know from those who kept in contact with him, he still lives with his mother, constantly posts on the Weapons board of N-Chan, and is obsessed with ex-military weaponry and equipment."

Jack chuckled.

"Heh. Slavshit."

For a moment, they both watched as Karl put a cigarette into the filter of his gas mask, then looked back at IF. The brunette was standing in front of a man in a wheelchair as he explained to her the nuances of the different weapons laid out in front of her. Jack stepped up next to IF to listen, which, for some reason, drew the man's attention. "Well," laughed the man in a rather gravelly tone. "Miss IF. You didn't tell me you were bringin' your famous friends." He extended a hand. "Name's Gage."

Jack leaned over the desk to shake his hand. "London. Jack London."

"'Course I know who you are. Your face's all over Leanbox." He leaned back in his wheelchair, eyeing Jack up and down as IF sighed. "You're lookin' a little light on firepower, there. You storin' a pistol in a disk, or somethin'?" Jack shook his head.

"Nah, I've got about fourteen weapons stashed in my disk." Gage raised his brows in surprise.

"Fourteen?" he said in a curious way. "Hell, I sell weapons, and I don't even have that many on me at once. And all in a disk..." He stared ahead slightly, chuckling, before flicking his eyes back up at Jack. "...damn." Jack shrugged.

"At least they're concealed. Concealment's why we're here. Miss IF's lookin' fo-"

"Stop calling me 'Miss'!" IF cut in angrily. "Just 'IF' is fine! You're probably older than me, anyway, so stop using condescending language!" He looked down at her.

"How old're you?" he asked.

"Twenty three."

"I'm not even twenty, yet."

IF's jaw dropped.

"Are you being _serious_?" she gasped. Even Cave looked surprised.

"Well. You truly are my junior. It seems like this job has been babysitting, the whole time." Jack turned and glared at her.

"Fuck off, Cave, you're, like, fifty," he retorted sharply. "Plus, you still dress like a slutty maid. I'm damn sure I saw your fuckin' outfit in a sex shop." Gage and IF covered their grins as Cave narrowed her eyes.

"For your information," she snarled, "I'm thirty two, and this costume is something I picked out myself from one of Leanbox's top designer stores."

"Which one? Leather and Lace, or some bollocks?"

"Well, it's unfortunate to consider that regardless of what I wear, I'm fine to be seen by the other gender. Unlike you, who turns into a wallflower upon losing even a few garments of clothing." Jack jabbed a finger at her.

"Hey, _**fuck you**_, it's normal for a bloke to not like bein' seen starkers," he snapped. "And it's _definitely_ not a good thing for you to not mind men seein' _you_ naked either. You must be pretty bloody used to gettin' naked in front of men. You comin' along to fight through that strip club in Leanbox must've been a fuckin' homecomin', for you." Cave grit her teeth.

"The visit to the psychologist's office must have been a homecoming for _you,_ Mr. Glovebox."

"No, it wasn't. You're fuckin' projectin', 'ere. And anyway, I think it's worth notin' that you're even _here_ to argue with me. Because if I hadn't stepped in, you'd have been beaten and raped to kingdom come by those gangsters." Cave froze, and a look of slight disgust set over her face.

"...I'm sorry, _what_ did you just say?"

"I was just pointin' out that I had to save your shapely arse from Russian gunmen. If I didn't, your arsehole'd be the size of a _real_ cave."

For a moment, Cave stared at him in disbelief, and IF shared a similar look on her face. Finally, the redhead's expression hardened. "Mr. Glovebox, I'd appreciate it if you kept your little comments to yourself, and kept my past out of this."

"Or _what_?" he shot back. "What the _fuck_ are you gonna do? Huh? Tell the CPUs I'm actin' out of line? I'm on a fuckin' _vacation_, and by fuck, if I get told I _have _to enjoy it, I'll talk shit all I want because that's what I enjoy. So what the fuck are you gonna do? Stop me 'enjoyin' my vacation'?"

"What I will do, Mr. Glovebox, is use an electrical attack on you with a power of fifty thousand volts. It'll knock you to the floor, and you'll just lie there wetting yourself. And you can be sure I won't pick you up. So I suggest you stop trying to act the big man, or all the people around us will get to watch you writhing in pain." Jack glared at her, leaning forward.

"I'd like to see you try, you silly cunt: I'll put you in the fuckin' ground." Cave leaned forward as well, glaring even harder at him.

Before the argument could come to blows, IF cleared her throat. "If you two could keep your lovers' quarrel on a leash, I'm trying to buy a gun, here." Jack and Cave stared at each other even more, before straightening up. Jack immediately turned, and began walking away.

"I'm goin' to the toilet," he said firmly. "And then I'm goin' back to the basilicom. You can fuck this 'day out' shite if that bitch is gonna be followin' me around." Cave just folded her arms.

"I'll contact the CPUs and say that I refuse to follow you, anymore. This level of abuse is unacceptable." Jack just gave her the finger as he walked away.

"_I wish those mobsters'd killed you back in Leanbox!_" he called out, disappearing through a nearby doorway that led to the bathrooms. Cave rubbed her face and sighed, turning back to IF.

"Are..." IF coughed. "Are you alright, Cave...?" Cave slowly nodded.

"Yes...I'm fine. I can only hope Mr. Glovebox is beaten to near death at some point soon." IF rocked her head side to side.

"_Liiiittle_ bit extreme, Cave, but whatever."

Just as they turned back to the stand, there was the sudden sound of a burst of full-auto fire, and people screaming.

_**Meanwhile, in the tunnels leading to the men's bathrooms...**_

Jack was still muttering to himself as he pissed. The bathroom, being the men's room, was completely void of people. That 'Karl' guy and Gage were the only men he'd seen, so he didn't understand why there was such a large bathroom...

Ah, well.

He'd decided to go to the far end of the room and use the urinal there. Basic men's law: Don't use the middle urinal. That's just fucking weird.

As he pissed, he thought back over everything he'd said to Cave, and sighed.

She was just doing her job...why was he being so mean to her? He used to get on with her. What changed? She was actually pretty nice. She helped him during the nightclub incident, and she ended up hospitalized because he'd been an idiot.

"...agh." he groaned, zipping his trousers up and turning to the sinks so that he could wash his hands. "I'm gonna have to apologize, aren't I...?" Whilst he cleaned himself up, he considered exactly how the _hell_ he could apologize for being THAT much of an arsehole.

As he finished washing his hands, he pulled out his N-Gear and pulled up Cave's texts, leaving the sink to fill up so that he could wash his face.

_**You:**__ Holy shit._

_**Caverino:**__ Anyway, that's how I lost my driving license._

_**You:**__ Oh, you absolute madwoman._

_**Caverino:**__ I know._

_**You:**__ Also, question. Do I still owe you that massage?_

_**Caverino:**__ Yes. I'm sure you can't wait to get your hands on my firm rear, broad back, ample chest, and powerful legs._

_**You:**__ stop_

_**Caverino:**__ I am only teasing. Though it seems likely that you would be interested in kneading the tension from my muscular body and listening to my moans of pleasure as the sensations run through my body._

_**You: **__cave no_

Jack sighed.

They really did get on well. Why was he being an arse to her?

Thinking carefully, he began texting her his apology, deciding to step inside a stall so that he wouldn't look as awkward standing around in a men's toilet, texting a girl. He sat down on the small seat, and locked the door. For a few minutes, there was silence.

Just then, the door to the bathroom on the opposite end of the room creaked open, and the sound of two heavy sets of footsteps resounded around the tiled room. It seemed like they were pacing...

Wait.

That pacing was the one that they'd been taught in training; The tactical advance. It had a very specific sound to it; Heel toe, rapid. Two individuals.

Maybe he was just confused. Maybe someone was walking like that anyway.

Suddenly, down the bathroom, there came the sound of a loud _bang_ as a cubicle door was kicked from its hinges.

"Clear!" yelled a loud, slightly garbled German voice.

A few seconds later, this repeated, but louder, as it got closer.

Jack got onto his feet quietly and put his N-Gear away, looking around for an escape.

Up above, there was a large air vent. Perfect.

_Bang_

"Clear!"

As quietly and quickly as he could, Jack clambered onto the toilet seat and pushed the vent out of place.

_Bang_

"Clear!"

For a few seconds, Jack struggled, but finally got halfway into the vent.

_**Bang**_

"Clear!"

He replaced the vent cover just as the door below him literally flew from its hinges and smashed onto the toilet. He was finally able to see the perpetrator.

Below him was a man in a full set of tactical gear, wielding a modified G36 and wearing a full helmet and balaclava. On his sleeve was the emblem of the KSK Special Forces unit.

_'Fuck me,'_ Jack thought. '_What the hell is he doing here?!'_

"Clear!" the German yelled, before stepping out of view. The sound of a radio rang out. "Sir, this is Sergeant Gruber. Men's bathrooms are clear. Women's bathrooms contained three hostages. I have sent Private Götson to take them to the main floor. Over." There was a hesitation.

"_EXCELLENT!_" the voice on the radio replied. That one was pretty fucking Russian. "_Keep Juarez in the bathrooms so he can keep it clear. Don't want any stragglers trying to escape. You, get your ass up here."_

"Copy that, on my way," 'Gruber' replied, beginning to leave the room. "Juarez, you stay here."

"Gotcha," came the response. That one sounded Colombian. Maybe Mexican. After a few seconds, the door closed on the opposite end of the room, and the sound of casual pacing could be heard.

_'Right, his guard's down. Time to strike._'

Silently, Jack lifted the cover from the vent, and peered around the bathroom again. On the other side of the room, patrolling near the sinks, there was a Mexican man in an ill-fitting polo shirt, aviator sunglasses and jeans, clutching a MAC-10 with a suppressor. He looked to have been about thirty. Probably a cartel member, by the looks of it. The man hesitated briefly, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of earbuds. He stuck them into his ear and pressed play on them.

Jack just hoped the guy had gotten rusty since his training.

Spinning around to drop down the hole, Jack lowered himself stealthily onto the tiled floor, and crouch walked to the small wall between the sinks and cubicles. Thankfully, Juarez didn't hear him. As far as Jack knew, the headphones could've been a trick, and he was actually listening for people not being careful.

As he stealthily approached, Jack was making a decision.

To kill, or not to kill?

Considering that he was with the KSK guy, and the KSK guy mentioned 'hostages', _and_ there was Russians involved, Jack decided to go for 'kill'.

He swept low beside the corner of the wall, near a sink. Juarez began approaching from his left. As soon as he idly wandered past, Jack moved.

He sprang forwards, grabbing the man's gun and wrenching it from his hands whilst delivering a powerful kick to the man's ribs. As he recoiled, Jack got a better grip on the MAC-10, attempting to bring it to bear on his opponent.

Juarez reacted fast; He yelled angrily, and converted his momentum into a right jab that connected with Jack's face, then followed up with a knee to the stomach and an uppercut to his jaw.

Jack staggered backwards in pain, dropping the gun. He bumped into one of the walls between the cubicles, but was quick to step forward again with his fists raised, eyes on his opponent. Juarez quickly pulled out his earbuds, taking up a boxer's stance. "Let's go, you little puta," snarled the man. Jack narrowed his eyes.

"Bring it, cunt."

Vasquez stepped forward quickly, taking the initiative with a powerful but sloppy left hook. Jack sidestepped the shambling attack, and as his opponent passed, raised his knee into Juarez's face. The Hispanic man let out a cry of pain, his head snapping backwards as he clutched his nose and backed off. Blood seeped between his fingers. He moved his hand to check on his hand.

Bad move.

In a flash, Jack was upon him with his combat knife drawn upside-down, delivering a rapid slice to the man's stomach, then following up with a stab through the shoulder. Before he could scream in pain, Jack barged into him and slammed him against the mirror, pinning his arms behind his back. Making sure to keep the pressure up, Jack didn't relent, slamming Juarez's face into the mirror as hard as he could, cracking the glass.

The man's glasses fell off his face as Jack grabbed his medium length hair, yanking his head back. "Who the fuck are you, and why're you takin' hostages?" he demanded. Juarez was breathing heavily, but managed to release a breathless '_Fuck you_'. "Wrong answer!" Jack snapped, before smashing his face into the mirror again and throwing him into a sink. The porcelain appliance simply gave way under the man's weight, causing the pipes beneath to begin spraying water up in a powerful jet and spray its contents all over the room.

Juarez lay on the floor groaning, coughing from the force of being winded, bleeding from his stomach, and sniffing through a broken nose. The man began to pick himself up but was quickly kicked onto his back. Jack delivered a punch to the face, before reaching down and using his knife to cut straight down the middle of his shirt.

Then, he ripped it off Juarez's torso, and stepped back.

The Hispanic man coughed, shakily rolling onto his front and attempting to pick himself up again. Before he could actually get into a standing position, Jack had taken his shirt and stretched the fabric over his face. His screams were muffled slightly by the thin fabric, but Jack kept it up, manhandling Juarez over to the water pipe that was letting loose a powerful jet of water. Once he was there, Jack kicked the back of Juarez's knees, and pinned his arms behind his back.

"And here I was, thinkin' you knew how to put up a fight!" he snarled into Juarez's ear. "Now, you've got one chance to tell me what the hell you're doin' here, or you get to go boardin' and not come back." Juarez shivered, and hissed through the rag.

"_Fuck...you..._"

Jack shrugged. "Ah, well."

He slammed Juarez's forehead against the tiled wall with a sickening crack, before holding his face directly over the powerful stream of water. The liquid splashed all over the rag as if it were being poured on him, and Juarez began violently thrashing and emitting garbled screams for help and mercy through the torture.

Jack remained steadfast, his face stone-cold as he listened to the man's lungs filling with water.

After two solid minutes of Juarez sputtering and spasming beneath him, the man finally lay still with one final twitch, going completely limp. Holding him there for another minute, Jack finally let him go, but placed his head on the pipe as added insurance. He stood up, and stepped back from the body, looking around.

One broken mirror, a destroyed sink, one dead Mexican, and his ego hurt from when Juarez hit him. He was pretty sure he'd chipped a tooth.

Sighing, and scratching his head, Jack considered his predicament.

There was a hostage situation in the building. The KSK (_He remembered a whole squad of them jn training_) was working with Russians, and probably the cartel members that had been drafted in for training. Those were only three of the groups that he knew of; There were probably more. There were over 200 floors of the market building, and they said they had hostages. They wouldn't have been able to take the whole building, no matter what, so he was probably looking at a force of a few dozen guys, all as equally-trained as him, and probably a few hundred hostages.

He paused.

Fuck.

The girls were out there.

Jack grit his teeth, and narrowed his eyes, sweeping up Juarez's MAC-10 and beginning to root through his pockets.

A grenade, a Colt .25 pocket pistol, and a radio.

Securing these, he turned to leave, but noticed something on the sink.

Lying there in near perfect condition were Juarez's aviator sunglasses.

Jack grinned, picking them up and putting them on as he left the bathroom.

They'd attacked Planeptune.

They'd betrayed the programme they'd been signed up for so they could commit crimes.

There were innocent people in the building.

He had just waterboarded a Mexican so effectively, Guantanamo Bay would've raised brows.

It was one o'clock in the afternoon, he was carrying fifteen weapons, and a whole host of women were held captive behind a fuckload of well-armed enemies.

These odds were fucking ridiculous, and that's the way he liked it.

He violently booted the door open that led back into the marketplace, drawing the attention of the soldiers that were patrolling the area. Instantly, he had a sea of guns pointed at him.

He grinned, pulling out his shotgun and racking the pump.

"Let's _rock_."


	29. The British Will Show No Mercy

Just as soon as the surrounding men had opened fire upon him, Jack had turned right and begun pounding down the aisle, zig-zagging as he approached the three men at the end. They were in casual clothing, but two of them had gone the same route as Jack and packed body armour to compensate. Thus, every set of double-aught buckshot that Jack launched their way was somewhat negated by their armour. Meanwhile, they were more than able to fire towards him, the full-auto features of their assault rifles being able to deliver a vast quantity of rounds, many of which were hitting.

Jack was definitely feeling it; There was a loud crack as some 5.56 from their rifles slammed into his chest, prompting him to yell out in pain. Nevertheless, he pressed on, racking the pump of his shotgun again and again to deliver more punishment at them.

Once he was close enough range, he transferred his very fast forward momentum into one very strong kick to the crotch of the opponent in the middle of the group. The man, letting out a loud and girlish scream as he was flung backwards, obviously hadn't been expecting Jack to employ a tactic normally employed for breaching oak doors, but wood is wood, right?

Whilst he kneeled down, clutching his testicles, Jack span around and allowed his shotgun to fly out of his hands. It soared through the air, the barrel smashing into the rib-cage of the next opponent, a sickening crack ringing through the air to display their lack of body armour. That man released a loud gasp, staggering back and reflexively squeezing the trigger on his SCAR-H and spraying bullets all over the place as Jack's shotgun landed on the floor.

Jack pressed on, dodging gunfire from the other end of the hall, sweeping low in front of his dazed opponent, before letting loose with an uppercut that plowed right into the man's face. The loud thud signified contact, along with his opponent's head swinging backwards with an audible snap.

Jack had no time to praise himself for punching a man so hard that he broke his spine; Just as soon as he'd swept out of the punch, he felt a sudden kick to his ribcage and was thrown sideways into a table.

Shit: He'd forgotten the third guy.

Grunting in pain, he reached into his disk to pull out both of the Mateba revolvers, rolling onto his back and pointing his left hand upwards, and right hand towards the nearby assailant, sending off a snap shot in both directions before rolling out of the way of the incoming stream of gunfire. His effort did very little, however; A huge volume of rounds pelted him as he rolled towards a nearby Items Stand that he planned to use as cover.

Jack did his best to ignore the pain, finally scrambling behind the low table and got into a crouch. Reaching into his bag, he whipped out one of the smoke grenades he'd stolen from Luke back in Lowee and lobbed it over the desk, hissing away loudly as it released a thick bank of grey smoke. The moment he finished raising his arm up post-throw, however, he winced and cried out in pain, clutching his ribs and leg that a massive number of bullets had impacted, dropping to the floor to sit sown. On the other side of the table, he could hear a few dozen sets of footsteps approaching, the sounds of magazines hitting the floor and new ones being inserted ringing out over the sound of boots on concrete, and orders being called out by who he figured was the KSK guy from earlier. If he knew they'd paid attention in training, he knew they wouldn't go through the smoke with organising themselves first.

He had only a short bit of time.

There was the sound of a few people doing what sounded like setting up a machine gunner position.

So, he was _definitely_ outgunned.

Going by the smoldering holes in the vest (_And his black undershirt, despite his green shirt and chest being fine_), his body armour was _finally_ starting to break. He guessed that he could probably only take another two or three bullets before the ballistic plates shattered, and then he'd be in a whole world of shit.

Not counting that?

Probably a few broken ribs where he'd been kicked, maybe a fractured femur, he was pretty sure he'd cut a knuckle on that guy's tooth, his face was bleeding, his shotgun was missing, and he was going to get his shit utterly kicked in unless he figured out a plan within the next twenty seconds.

He gasped in pain, frantically looking around the back of the stall from his sitting position. The owner had obviously fled in a hurry. If he had to guess, Jack figured they were probably one of the hostages. Scattered around was a chair lying on its back, bottles lying everywhere, and papers scattered all over the place.

Shit, he couldn't reach those potions.

Frantically, Jack reached back to check what was beneath the counter. A sample of a potion, medical supplies, anything that could buy him a chance against what was probably about twenty opponents. Just then, his hand caught purchase on something, prompting him to immediately look at it.

In his hand, there was a pack of five syringes. On the front of the sealed plastic packet, there was a label saying 'STR'. Jack had heard that before: Strength.

"Fuck me, if I don't need this right now..." he wheezed, ripping off all the needle covers with one movement and pausing very briefly to look at the sharp needles that awaited entry into his arm...

No.

Now wasn't the time for fear.

Fear was for the enemy; Fear, and arsekickings, and goddamn right he was going to give them plenty of both or die with his size 11 boot in someone's anus.

Steeling himself, he lifted his sleeve, wrapped his hand around all five STR needles, grit his teeth, and stabbed them all into his bicep at once, before pressing down all the plungers simultaneously.

The pain that came with injecting almost a pint of super steroids into his arm nearly caused him to scream as every single one of his nerves, muscles, and organs practically set on fire.

He could feel his pulse elevate; His breathing rate doubled; His arms tensed immediately, flooding with adrenaline.

And more than anything else?

He felt angry.

So. _Fucking._ _**Angry.**_

More blinding rage than he'd ever felt in his life was suddenly ripping through his veins. He'd been pissed off before, but Christ, that was absolutely NOTHING compared to the burning hot desire he felt that told him to take it to those who'd wronged him, as up close and personally as humanly fucking possible.

As if on autopilot, he threw both Matebas away, the weapons disappearing in a purple flash as per the usual. The pain was suddenly unnoticeable, now: Jack took advantage of this by spinning around into a low crouch, gripping the bottom of the several meter long steel desk he had been cowering behind, and letting out a near-primal roar as he flipped it up through the smoke in the direction he figured that a number of his attackers were in.

The response was an almighty crunch of bone and screaming of men as a half-ton piece of metal launched itself onto them with the force of a fast-moving car. Alongside that, there came the sound of a yell: '_What the fuck just happened?!_'

That yell came from the right.

To Jack's rage-addled brain and, that was good enough for him.

He turned, immediately lunging into the thick bank of smoke and tackling the first person he could. The heavily-armoured man barely a split second to respond as his AA-12 was flung away into the miasmic gloom, his mouth was covered immediately, and Jack began hammering away at the reinforced steel riot helmet on top of the man's head at an inhuman speed. The heavy visor barely lasted two hits, shattering almost immediately and sprinkling his opponent's face with thick shards of glass. The man's head fared no better, either: The moment Jack's fist made contact with all the force of a shotgun blast, his opponent's face immediately caved in, silencing his screams with a disgusting crack and squelch.

Jack wasn't thinking straight.

That wasn't enough.

He delivered a few more punches to the destroyed head in the helmet, making sure to hit the top of the spine so that it snapped, before he got back onto his two feet and was on the prowl through the smoke again. Behind him, the dead body twitched and released a gurgling noise.

The next target came from the sound of a man groaning in pain on the ground. By this point, the metal desk had stopped skidding on the floor, five seconds after it had been thrown. Obviously, the man was injured.

Jack wanted to speed him up.

Proceeding through the smoke and rolling his shoulders, Jack came to an area where the smoke wasn't as thick, seeing someone who looked to be wearing an up-armoured Japanese military Officer's uniform steadily getting back to his feet and dusting himself off, Tokarev pistol in hand. The man was glancing about, trying to discern just what the hell was going on, but there was no way in Hell that he could ever predict what was about to happen to him.

Once more, Jack pulled his combat knife from his disk and threw himself at the man, stabbing him in the chest and kicking his kneecaps backwards in one swift move, before grabbing his opponent's collar and dragging him back into the smoke before anyone noticed he'd disappeared.

Jack was, somehow, withholding his increasingly strong urge to laugh maniacally whilst he repeatedly stabbed the Japanese soldier, delivering powerful swipes into his stomach and chest. Finishing the stabbing with a swift right hook to the face (_Which, considering how tightly Jack was gripping his opponent's collar, almost immediately broke his neck and span his head almost the full 180°_), Jack shoved the man to the ground, chucked his knife away, grabbed his victim's wrists, then stomped on his chest, breaking the man's ribcage in the process.

At this point, he could barely contain himself.

"_**RIP AND FUCKIN' TEAR!**_" he bellowed, giving an almighty tug and tearing the man's arms straight from their sockets. Blood spurted everywhere: Mostly on Jack's boots, but the gore that was making the most mess was jetting out all over the floor.

The battle cry had drawn more attention; Now that the smoke was clearing, Jack was beginning to see just who was left.

Crushed beneath the steel desk, there were about six people, one with his leg still pinned as he tried to free himself from underneath the massive weight.

Dead on the floor, either from being smashed in the face by the flying desk or from being torn apart by Jack, there were another four people.

The remaining ten were looking into the smoke, weapons raised and screaming into their radios for reinforcements.

Jack was not thinking rationally at this point.

With his newfound speed, he charged forwards to the nearest guy; He looked to be one of the Mobsters from the nightclub massacre in Leanbox. The look of anger that set in on his face barely did anything to slow Jack down as he reeled back, and punched straight into the man's chest.

To his surprise, the thug withstood it, letting out a loud yell as he was knocked backwards a good few feet. The sound of the panicked cry immediately got the attention of anyone wondering where the smoke shout had come from, and almost immediately, Jack's ears picked up the sounds of people turning to face him.

He had to keep his streak up.

He dodged left, just as the first few gunshots ripped through the fast-fading cloud of smoke, and immediately withdrew the double-barrelled shotgun, holding it like a club with the wooden buttstock as the head and barrels as the grip. As he moved, he targeted the nearest opponent; A GIGN soldier that was beginning to fire at him with a FAMAS rifle.

The bullets were hitting.

Jack wasn't stopping.

He let out another yell, reeling the shotgun back on his rapid approach to the French special forces operative. The trooper began backpedalling as his rifle clicked empty, but was quick to draw a service revolver and dive out of the way of Jack's strike, landing a series of shots. Jack began to regain his balance as the other soldier went into a knee slide along the floor, emptying the chamber into the booster-crazed berserker as he went, before rolling into a sprint and vaulting a nearby market stand for cover.

Jack was having none of it.

Shrugging off the numerous rounds being fired at him, he put his shotgun away, pulled a grenade from his bag, and belted it towards the guys that were firing at him. The small device made a loud noise as it smashed into someone's forehead, before the unmistakeable metallic clink of it hitting the floor resounded.

Then, it exploded, prompting even more trouble for Jack's attackers as they were showered with razor sharp steel shards. The men fell backwards, which gave Jack the time to drop another smoke grenade, and do something he'd longed to do to an opponent since the first time he had picked it up: He went into his disk and pulled out the chainsaw.

By this point, the area was once more filling with thick black smoke, and the panic was setting over his attackers once again.

Jack decided to turn it into a psychological attack as well as a physical one.

He gripped the plastic ripcord to start the saw motor, giving it a series of firm yanks to get the device running. When the gears finally started turning, the device shook itself into life, letting loose a snarl which turned to an angry roar as Jack revved its engine. He could hear the opposing side's voices through the smoke as he slowly circled their last known location.

"_Eyes on, fellas! He's got a fucking chainsaw!_"

"_Cyka! Do __**not**__ let down your guard!_"

"_You little son a of a bitch! That saw won't be so great when we force it into your asshole!_"

Jack grit his teeth, held the saw forward like a lance, then sprinted towards the last voice's source, gripping the trigger and making the saw's teeth spin rapidly on the approach. The men began to panic and yell, and Jack only caught a brief glimpse of a soldier to his right as he brought the chainsaw down on the ex-Cartel enforcer that he'd targeted.

The force of the impact plunged the saw straight through the man's unprotected shoulder, severing the veins immediately and spraying a shower of gore into the air as the man screamed almost inhumanly.

At one point, Jack would have stopped right then and there and fled.

That point had passed.

Instead, he opened his mouth to crack out a one-liner, but the unbridled amount of adrenaline and STR boosters running through his body simply turned his Ash Williams reference into a terrifying, psychotic laughter that somehow rang clear over the sound of a man's bones and flesh being shredded apart by a logging appliance. Eventually, the screaming began to sound incredibly gurgle-ish, or perhaps that was just the amount of blood spraying all over Jack that made him imagine in.

As he forced it, he noticed the other men bringing guns to bear, just visible through the smoke. He was quick to give the saw one firm push, slicing straight through the remaining flesh of his opponent and dropping himself low into a crouch as guns started firing overhead.

As the full-auto gunfire kicked in, he remained as low as he could whilst the bullets zipped over him. He stayed still, putting the saw away and reverting himself to silence.

He was still breathing too fast and he felt like he could RKO a fucking tank.

This was _**NOT**_ helping him calm down.

He glanced at the dead body near him.

Well, what was left of it.

Clutched in the dead Latino's grip was _another_ Desert Eagle. Same version as the one he already had.

He frowned, reaching forward and freeing it from the dead body's unusually strong grip.

The serial code on the side of the frame was #696969XD.

Ha!

A joke about sex!

Goddamn, he wanted to kill someone for the fact that they thought that joke was funny.

He also wanted to use his one and that one at the same time.

Would it break his wrists?

..._yes._

He growled to himself, put the new pistol in his disk, and rolled out of the way of the bulletstream, going through his disk to retrieve the RPD.

Once he was certain that his opponents assumed he was where he had been sighted at first and were thus still shooting in that direction, he circled around behind them and set up the LMG's built-in bipod.

Briefly, his rather chaotic state of mind gave him a flashback to the time that he told Vert, Chika, and Uni that he wouldn't ever use a bipod because that wasn't his style.

OK.

He stopped setting up the bipod and stood up at full height, hefting the gun at his hip. By normal standards, that would be heavy. Jack wasn't normal, and he had taken enough super steroids to make Lance Armstrong look at him in disapproval.

Then, without further hesitation, he squeezed the trigger and felt the 7.62 x 39 flow from the RPD with a rhythmic thud. The bullets ripped through the smoke in a steady pattern, the weapon jumping around from the recoil. Inside the smoke, the gunfire had stopped, but there was some screaming.

Jack questioned how the past few minutes of gunfire and chainsaws hadn't deafened him.

After a solid ten seconds of firing, he stopped, lowered the RPD, and assessed the carnage.

By this point, the smoke was steadily clearing. On the ground lay at _least_ fifteen corpses, all riddled with holes and eviscerated to varying degrees. One of the corpses, a US Marine Jack had spoken to, like, twice during training, had a neat hole straight through his forehead. The rest of his body was flayed with shrapnel from the grenade, and peppered with shotgun pellets from earlier on.

Just as he prepared to loot the bodies, Jack stopped.

Someone was standing amongst them, arms hanging slightly with a G36 pointed one-handedly at the ground.

Jack raised his LMG again, narrowing his eyes.

The smoke finally cleared, and revealed that the man in question was one of the KSK troopers. His back was filled with holes, but he was still standing: Still desperate to just hold on. He was twitching slightly. Every so often, he would take a slight step to retain his balance as he stared ahead. Jack couldn't see his face, but he could tell it was probably terrified.

"I-I-I-I-I..."

The man was stuttering quietly, before he slowly began to bring himself to face Jack.

His face was drenched in gore. His neck had a ragged hole through it.

"...I-I...will...will never...kneel...to-to-to...y-you..."

Jack slowly lowered the RPD and stored it as he slowly approached and the man coughed a small stream of blood. Jack pulled out the double-barrel once more, and levelled it with the man's head.

"I never said anythin' about kneelin'," he growled, before squeezing both triggers.

The force of the shotgun blast almost completely destroyed the injured man's head, flipping him straight backwards before he landed on his chest at the top of the pile of corpses. His gun noisily clattered beside him, echoing around the now empty battleground.

At this point, the STR boosters wore off, and Jack could fully appreciate...

...just how much pain he really was in.

Almost immediately, he dropped straight to all fours, and vomited up an incredibly thick jet of foaming sick and blood. As it left his mouth, he felt incredibly dizzy, and the fact that he was bleeding from literally _everywhere_ did not help. A glance around told him that none of the guys he'd fought were still alive.

So that was a plus.

As he looked at the stalls from his position low on the ground, he could hear the sound of sirens outside the building, as well as helicopters.

So at least the cops'd arrived.

He looked down at himself. His clothes were utterly painted with blood, and about 80% of it wasn't his.

So he'd...won, he supposed?

He glanced up again, noticing a stall at the end of the row.

Adventure Supplies.

That would definitely have something.

Whilst it was only about ten or fifteen meters away, the inhuman pain that strangled every one of his nerves made it feel like it was as far away as the life he used to lead.

Every time he reached forward, his muscles called him a slimy cunt and were screaming at him to bloody stop.

But he pressed on.

Five minutes passed.

He reached the stall.

He yanked himself behind it.

Lying in front of him was a case of Super HP potions.

He'd never used a potion.

What if it tasted of shit?

He threw that thought aside, pulled himself against the wall, and leaned against it.

He could barely find the strength to bring the bottle to his mouth.

As soon as he did, he swallowed, washing down the gleaming crimson potion, the taste of his own blood, and the taste of sick.

Honestly, the strawberry flavour of the potion sort of balanced it out.

It didn't, however, balance out the fact that the potion had suddenly brought about Ragnarok in his body.

It felt worse than before: Ten times the pain he'd felt due to all the repairing agents literally stitching him together from the inside, plus the temporary sensation of feminity due to the oestrogen included in the potion's ingredients.

For ten seconds, he writhed in pain, yelling loudly and contemplating why he suddenly wanted to watch Bridgett Jones' Diary as the potion worked on stopping him from...well, dying.

After that ten seconds, the pain subsided entirely.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

He could think clearly again.

First off, shit, he'd killed people...

No, not getting into that.

"You're over those feelin's, London..." he muttered to himself.

Right: Mental reassurance, done.

Second: Where was his shotgun?

His mind flashed back to it being used as a crude javelin before he was kicked in the ribs and forced to stab himself with needles. Then he didn't see it.

Leading onto that, third: Ow, needles hurt.

He mentally reminded himself to avoid needles.

Fourth: He'd nearly been _wrecked_ in that fight.

He needed more firepower.

Standing up, he vaulted the adventure shop desk and looked down the aisles.

All the stands were abandoned, leaving stock either on display, behind the counter, or sometimes on the floor.

Nobody would've minded if he..._requisitioned_ some of it, eh?

He stepped over the dismembered Mexican and walked with his hands in his pockets down the aisle, eyeing up everything on display.

All too small: As expected.

And none of it would work well: His strategy in that fight had been to sneak around behind smoke, and that was a near-death last resort plan that he hated using.

Considering how many of them there would probably against him, and how only fifteen of them had _really_ fucked him up, he needed something that could make a mess.

Just as he passed the Avenir Corporation tent, he looked inside.

**MILITARY ANDROID PARTS AND EQUIPMENT**

"OK, you've got my curiosity."

Jack stepped inside, crouching beneath the marquee doorway and approaching that section of the tent, passing a whole variety of shit along the way.

Of course, considering how Noire constantly told him how the Avenir Corporation was inherently evil, he figured that must have meant they sold some cool stuff to bad people.

The military android stuff they had was no disproval to his statement.

Inside a glass case, they had put an 'XMPL21 Anti-Vehicle Device'; A massive, yellow-painted and industrial-looking cannon that looked to be loaded with missiles. As soon as he noticed that, Jack reeled a fist back and punched through the glass, carefully shaking off the shards of glass as he lifted the rocket launcher off its' stand.

Whilst it did have sights, he realized that the lack of a stock for the weapon meant he would not be holding it like a rifle: That'd break his shoulder. Instead, the grips provided comfortably allowed him to hold it at the hip, just like he enjoyed doing regardless. Satisfied, he fumbled around for the magazine release, finding it after a few seconds of searching and dropping it into his hand for inspection.

The thing was the size of about two large encyclopedias; It was holding rockets, after all, and the window at the side of the magazine showed it had about twenty small missiles loaded.

He grinned.

"It'd be a shame to let such good tech go to waste."

He put this into his disk, as well, and looked around again.

As he laid eyes on the other weapon being advertised, he felt his shoulders go slightly limp.

"Ohhhh..." he moaned, grinning as he slowly approached the glass case on the other side of the tent. "Now...what might your name be, you sexy, _sexy_ girl...?"

Suspended on two metal rods was the unmistakeable, hulking black form of a six-barrelled minigun. The motor was the size of his chainsaw's engine, but bigger and sleeker, with a massive belt feed of ammunition linking to the drum beneath the frame. Each barrel was easily the length of his leg, and some, with the circular flash hider stuck over the end of the barrels to hold them in place when firing. The chainsaw-style grip was a little towards the front, meaning it hung in Jack's arms as if it were made just for him.

In that moment, Jack felt more sexually aroused by a 6000RPM weapon of mass destruction than he had ever felt in all of his time shitposting on /k/.

He hefted the minigun carefully.

Not too heavy. Weighed half as much as Chika.

Beau. Ti. Ful.

Immediately, Jack turned, and began to jog towards where he'd dropped his shotgun, and collected it, hiding his new toys in the disk to add a bit of surprise. Then he began to run towards the elevator.

First, ground floor. He'd work his way up from there, find someone, and interrogate them until they told him where everyone was being kept hostage.

If there was pockets of resistance, he'd go help the people fight off his worldsmen, and just hope that Falcom, IF, Tekken, MAGES., Nepgear, Compa, or Cave were there.

After that, he'd make sure the civilians were out, and then he'd go back in to kill every remaining member of the project that had opted to attack the innocent.

But as he passed the Avenit on route to the elevator, he failed to notice the box of Killachine Summoners that was completely empty, lying on its side in the middle of the room.


	30. We Carry On

Just as the glass cylinder began its descent, Jack withdrew his N-Gear and dialled Chaz's number, bringing the device to his ear. For a few seconds, it rang, before there was finally the pick-up sound.

"_Yo, it's Chaz._"

"Hostage situation," Jack said bluntly. "Load up Luke, James, and Josh. Bring the CPUs if you can. Planeptune markets have been locked down by guys from Earth. Huge number of hostages. I'm on my own. Get here ASAP." On the other side of the phone, Jack could hear jet engines winding up. Either Chaz had been sitting in it when he called, or he'd done his usual and pulled the multi-million pound aircraft out of his arse.

"_Copy that, on my way,_" replied the masked aviator. "_Make sure you leave some for me._ _ETA is one hour._"

"You've got half an hour," Jack said flatly, before hanging up.

He went into his contacts again, and called IF. If anybody had a phone active at that point, it'd be her. If he could link up with her and the girls, he'd have some idea of where the enemy was.

The phone rang.

_**Meanwhile, elsewhere in the building...**_

The penthouse boardroom atop the Planeptune market tower, on the 250th floor, would normally be filled with stock-market operators, opportunistic economists, and multi-billion credit businessmen, all scurrying about and trying to fiddle the system to boost their profits in any way they could.

Of course, the usual residents were all still there, even in the event of a terror attack. The police helicopters were seen through the windows, trying to look inside, and they would have seen the men all sat around the table, as well as a large number of people who were sat against the walls of the room.

They also would have seen the patrolling, towering men from Earth, rifles and machine guns resting in their arms as they paced back and forth, towering over their hostages. Every once in a while, they'd jab one of them, eliciting a small squeak or yelp of fear from the victim, and it would be caught on camera for national TV by the numerous helicopters orbiting the building.

At the head of the central table, receiving glares from every single one of the hostages, was the mastermind of the entire operation; Major Sergei Kashuba. Rather than the men surrounding him, who were all kitted up with tactical gear, Sergei had on a well-pressed black suit with a Kevlar vest beneath his black t-shirt, a pair of well-fitted ballistic guards beneath his sleeves and trouser legs, and resting against the table was a heavily customized M4 rifle. Adorning the weapon was a number of crudely scratched notches, three separate laser modules, two torches, three different sights, a vertical foregrip, an angled foregrip, a chainsaw grip, and the magazine in the well had a grand total of four other magazines strapped to it, as well as a pair of bayonets, an underslung shotgun, a knife strapped to the bottom of the stock, and a nail on the base of the foregrip.

It was quite clear to anyone who looked at the device that Sergei preferred the logic of 'I might need it at some point', and thus his rifle was effectively an entire platoon's worth of firepower.

He was only 20, and yet held a rank higher than most military operators would get. Due to his above-exceptional demonstration of leadership and combat skills during the year-and-a-half training course, he had been fast-tracked into the operation's upper hierarchy.

His job, at first, was to lead all the operators into a suitable location, radio for assistance, then help the scientists unload the equipment to set up a research outpost. After that, they would be relegated to defending the outpost from the nasty creatures that had been seen.

Thus, after entering the portal to Gamindustri, he found himself short of a number of men, who had been scattered across Gamindustri. A setback, but the job needed to be done...

...right?

Of course, when they caught sight of Gamindustri's cities, the game changed.

As any man would do with a large number of hypersoldiers and idiotic criminals at his disposal and a number of potential success opportunities before him, Sergei did not radio back to command.

He told his men not to radio back to command.

They locked, they loaded, and Sergei set about leading his men towards eventual domination of the new world. He made contact with some of the less reputable locals of the world, and began his operations out of Gamindustri.

From any look, he just appeared similar to Tommy Wiseau, but with scars. Not really threatening, but that rather unfortunate outward appearance concealed a disturbed creature beneath.

In spite of his face and seemingly careless disposition, those under his command understood that out of all of them, Sergei was the leader. No questions. He was the most strategic, destructive, violent sociopath to have ever been given a modicum of power over any people, and at that point in time, he was reclined in an office chair in a room full of hostages, scratching his chin and smoking.

The table before him was littered with phones, wallets, and the personal effects of the hostages scattered around the room. Beside his foot was a much larger phone: The hotline for the police downstairs to use for negotiations. The precious conversation had been four minutes and forty seven seconds prior, in which he warned them to keep the police and news helicopters away or he'd have them shot down.

Sighing at the sound of rotors continuing to buzz outside, he lifted his head. "Doe," he said calmly. A man on the other side of the room lifted his slightly oversized helmet as he stopped patrolling, shotgun in hand. "They have ignored previous demand. Shoot down helicopters." Doe raised a brow, grumbling and scratching his chin as his helmet swung back down over his eyes.

"I dunno," replied the gruff American. "That doesn't seem right." Sergei shot him a look.

"And when in fuck have we cared about 'right', Mr. Doe?" snapped the Russian.

"We've kept small time so far," replied the trooper. "Fighting cops and SMD agents, sure...but killing civilians? That's...you're out of your mi-"

"Go out there and destroy helicopters, or I will be of shoot you for being traitor." Doe stared at his boss in disbelief. He hesitated, then exhaled, before putting his sawed-off Ithaca shotgun on the table, and approaching one of the weapon crates that they'd had brought in via chopper when the raid had started. He flicked open the latches, swung open the lid, before removing and placing an RPG-7 rocket launcher onto his shoulder. He approached the window, then swung it open, rushing winds and setting sunlight blaring against his face as he sighted the launcher towards one of the circling news helicopters.

A news presenter was broadcasting live from inside it, in the process of attempting to explain what was going on. There was a live audience of several million watching: Many were from Planeptune, but the viewers from other nations that wanted to see a terror attack in progress threw viewership figures from the hundreds of thousands of viewers in Planeptune to three million globally.

That meant that as Doe grit his teeth, steadied himself, and released a HEAT rocket directly into the cabin of the circling helicopter to destroy it, three million screens showed the newsreader screaming as her vehicle span out of control in a ball of flames and steel, spiralling towards the ground with sirens blaring from the cockpit.

The wreckage span down into the streets, hitting a building on the way down before slamming into a number of police vehicles, skidding along the asphalt, and finally coming to a rest after smashing through the front of a nearby café.

Doe lowered the launcher and looked back at Sergei, who hadn't even bothered to watch the impact. The hostages had broken into mutters. There was the sound of crying and gibbering. "It's...done," muttered the soldier, taking the launcher back to its box and locking it inside. Sergei offered him nothing in the way of congratulations.

"Learn to aim. You were meant to hit cockpit, you fucking shit." Doe just glanced over his shoulder at his boss, sighing. "And you are of calling self a 'Soldier'? No wonder they were not of allowing you into army! It is wonder you even made it out of Chechnya, you slimy ballsack!" Sergei reclined in his seat, before finally throwing a gesture at Doe. "In fact, know what? Get out. Get fuck out of sight before I kick you in asshole. Fucking idiot. Take RPG. Shoot helicopters whilst you are at it." As Doe grabbed a bandolier of rockets, Sergei looked around the room for a moment at the hostages. All of them were cable-tied and looked rather frightened.

All of them, that is, except one.

Sat at the side of the room, shooting him a rather deadly glare, was a small brown-haired woman. She had a slightly oversized blue coat and small green ribbons in her hair.

Sergei narrowed his eyes at her.

"Doe, take that little shit with you," he demanded, pointing to IF. She looked momentarily surprised. "She is glaring at me. I do not like. I do not need that negativity in here. Take with you. Shoot her if she piss you off." Doe turned and looked momentarily confused, before finally walking over to her and getting her to her feet. IF grunted in disapproval, shifting against his grip as he guided her out of the room, taking his shotgun on the way out. God, that shit was heavy...

As the door closed, there was brief silence, accompanied by the orchestral sounds of sirens and screams below. Sergei leaned back in his seat, throwing his arms wide and grinning at the remaining hostages. "Well! Are you not lucky to be up here, no? Very nice view, yes?"

The response was the expected 'no response'. He dropped his arms slightly, standing up and beginning to walk through the hostages.

"Are you all being serious, now?" he laughed. "You are of witness to history in making! I am doing big favour for all of you by carrying out this! Has it not yet been of dawn on you all that your 'CPUs' are dictators? Do you not somehow see that all money in country belong to CPUs?" At that point, a woman spoke up.

"You're wrong!" she snapped. "The CPUs are _**not**_ dictators! They give us freedom! You don't know the first thing about dictators!" Sergei rolled his eyes and turned to her, placing his hands on his hips.

"Trust me, Miss, I am from East Europe," he sighed, shaking his head at her. "We had Communist leaders for many year and many people starve and die of dysentery. So I think I am of know bit more about what is dictatorship than you, tiny lady." The woman glared at him as he continued to walk around the room. "Is it not pissing any of you off? You have had same leaders for many year! Have you not been wanting change at a point?" The hostages glanced at each other and shook their heads.

None of them had any problem with the CPUs. Sure, Lady Neptune and Lady Blanc appeared pretty young, but at the end of the day, the countries were being run effectively.

Sergei dropped his shoulders and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "What in shit is this..." he muttered, shaking his head. "You know, I am beginning to be of think that many of you are...how you say, 'fucking deluded'." He snapped his arms down, and leaned against the table. "How in fuck are none of you tired of this _**BULLSHIT?**_ You have leaders who are children - _literally fucking __**CHILDREN**_ \- and yet you do not see flaws in your politics system? You are all fucking delusional! You are _exactly_ what problem was in Eastern Bloc countries, and yet you do nothing to counteract this...this _shit!_ Take from me, comrades; You do not want one party state. One party state is call for war. Your countries have been at war for fucking _centuries_. You have never tried peace because your 'great leaders' have never suggested peace."

"We're in peace talks right now," a woman piped up. Sergei was quick to cut her off, marching over to her and jabbing a finger in her face.

"**Peace talks orchestrated by **_**ONE OF MY MEN!**_" he roared. The woman recoiled slightly. "Whether you fucking low life scum understand or not, your precious Jack London is one of my fucking men. His peace talk proposals were **my** idea. His speeches were written **by me**. He fights monsters **to help me.** He answer to me, he work for me, he follow orders from me. And just because he has recently been fighting our efforts does not mean he is not one of my men, and like I would with any soldier who cause problem, I will shoot him through head like fucking dog and leave for wild animals to eat."

At this point, the hostages pursed their lips and listened to the utter maniac in front of them pacing back and forwards, his mouth spewing steaming hot shit like a broken sewage pipe.

Just then, as Sergei reached his explanation as to why he was superior to them all in every way, one of IF's mobile phones rang on the table. The suited man paused, and eyed the device for a moment, cautiously reaching out and looking at the screen.

_Mr. London_

Sergei raised his brows, and pressed accept, placing the phone on speaker. "Hello? Is this Lon-?"

"_Oi! Miss IF! Where the fuck are you and the others? There's dick'eads swarmin' the whole fuckin' tower!"_

"Well, I am recognise vulgar language," Sergei scoffed, checking his nails as he rested the phone on the table. "This is Jack London, no?"

There was a silence. "_...the fuck is this? Have I crossed phone lines, or summat?_"

"No, no, I am assure you, this is...ah, 'Miss IF's' phone. Just not 'Miss IF' who is using it."

"_Who the fuck are you? Why've you got her phones, you slippery cunt? I swear to Christ, you gimme a fuckin' ans-!_"

"Tone down on vulgarity, London, that is no way to speak to commanding officer," Sergei groaned. Jack hesitated again.

"_...Sergei fuckin' Crashyourmum. I should've seen this comin'._"

"It is pronounce KASHUBA!" yelled the Russian. "Now **you** listen, you shit! You have abandoned duty to planet, your people, entire project, and me! This is major breakthrough in establishing grip in this new world and you are trying to _**FUCK IT UP!**_" Jack just laughed, the voice echoing around the windows of the room.

"_Whatever you say, Comrade Cuntbag,_" came the snarky British reply, prompting a few silent mirths from the hostages._ "Now, onto business. Considerin' what you've had the guys doin' recently, I'd say I'm within my place to tell you to effin' do one in regards to my orders. Think of it as a good thing that I fucked off early, 'cause we both know that I'd've kicked your arse and taken command myself, you dopey tosser._" Sergei narrowed his eyes. "_Anyway, mind tellin' me what Russian Hood and the Men in Tights're doin' in the Planeptune market buildin'?_" The Russian smirked, and leaned against the table once again.

"Ahh, well," he chuckled. "We are just dealing with a few...how you say, 'financial transfers' for a client. Customer service was not of good standard, so we decided to speak with manager and bring a few other customers with us to help prove point to him." He glanced over at the building's owner, who was currently cable-tied to the chair at the head of the meeting table. "I think we make good point to him and he is consider our problem very seriously." Jack scoffed over the phone.

"_So you're robbin' the place?_" he sighed. "_Trust the fuckin' Communist to try and take money from hard-workin' people..._"

Sergei sat up, and jabbed a finger at the phone. "Hey, first, I am support _'democratic socialism'_. It is different from communism."

"_It ain't, but go on._"

"Second," he continued, ignoring the fact he was being laughed at by his hostages. "I ask you simple question, London: You are trying to stop me, yes?"

"_Damn right I am._"

"Then how will you deal with many hundred well-armed and trained men of your skill, or higher? Your refusal of cover and idiotic strategies will be downfall, asshole! You will not even make it to ground floor alive!"

Jack raised his brows as the elevator door slid open, allowing him to walk into the ground floor's main lobby.

"_Ahhh, already done. On the ground floor right now. Bunch of cops outside. Any more questions, dickhead?_"

"What the **FUCK?!**" Sergei screamed, slamming his fists on the table. "How in fuck are you down there?! I was place many number of men around elevator shaft and you _**still**_ get down?! My men are fucking failures!"

"_Your entire plan's a fuckin' failure, you smarmy twat,_" Jack retorted, standing in the middle of the lobby and looking up.

Floors, floors, floors.

So many floors.

About a quarter of the way up, he could see blue bolts of energy blasting across the atrium, and hear gunfire above, accompanied by American and Chinese yelling, mixed with chuuni statements and entertained laughter.

Well, at least MAGES. and Falcom were probably holding out alright. God knows how Falcom ended up with MAGES..

"Turning to mindless insults, London?" Sergei sneered over the phone. Jack sniffed slightly.

"Nah, just fillin' time whilst I look for a way up."

"_Good fucking luck getting here, you British asshole. There are hundreds of men between you and me, and all of them will fire their guns at you._" There was a pause, as Jack stopped at the base of the staircase leading to the way up. "_Face facts, London: It's over._"

Jack smirked, starting up the stairs.

"Oh, it's not over until I teabag _every last one_ of you backstabbin' motherfuckers."

He closed the phone, leaving just the dial tone on the other end as the penthouse room went quiet.

The hostages bristled with excitement.

Mr. London was coming to save them.

_**Meanwhile, two hundred floors down...**_

As far as Jack had gathered, there were no hostages remaining on any of the floors he'd passed.

Well, even if there _were,_ it wasn't like he was gonna just...like, _help_ them or anything.

What the hell was he going to do? He didn't have a means of evacuation, and the elevator had already gone right back up to the top floor. There was no way he was gonna be babysitting for dozens of screaming women whilst trying to escort them out of the building in the midst of a full-blown terror attack by a few hundred men that could each forcibly bring down a military state if they wanted to.

Not ideal, especially considering he had no armour on him.

That in mind, he pressed on to the fiftieth floor, bounding up five steps at once with his Deagle drawn. A few floors up, there was a bit of a scuffle going on, in what he assumed was MAGES. and Falcom against a mob of armed men. Judging by the sound of swords hitting things and loud magic noises, accompanied by loud screaming, his two female friends were doing remarkably well against the project's finest.

He wasn't about to let them go it alone, however; He picked up the pace as much as he could, racing up the spiral staircase that ran around the inside edge of the entire market tower. It was a very good design; It didn't take up _too_ much space, and the fact it was a constant incline meant he would always be travelling upwards. His current running speed was pushing about fifty miles an hour.

Perhaps he still had some STR potion lingering in his system?

Whatever it was, it meant he was covering floors at a rate of knots.

And like he'd said to Uni a while before: Who complains about an advantage for themselves?

By the time he reached the destination floor, he'd swapped his pistol for the AK and began running around the large marketplace floor, circling around to get to where MAGES. and Falcom were holding out.

Lying bleeding on the floor, taking cover behind fallen stands, or making tactical advances on the two Makers, there were about eight to ten soldiers. He recognised the three still standing as ex-military; South Korean army, Japanese Self-Defence Force, and one Vietnamese trooper.

"Here comes another Chinese earthquake!" Jack yelled, completely ignoring the fact that none of those three were Chinese as he immediately began firing at the Vietnamese soldier. Before his squatting opponent could even give a response to Jack's blatant racism, he was being pelted in the face with 7.62 rounds, prompting him to cry out in pain and drop his SKS, staggering back from the market stand he was cowering behind and falling over. He only successfully withstood six rounds before the bullets actually ripped through his uniform and skin, resulting in him doing a bullet-riddled spasm on the floor as Jack dumped part of his seemingly bottomless magazine at him.

The sound of gunfire gained the attention of the two other Eastern men, who quickly span and began firing on Jack.

For some reason, Jack hadn't expected this unusual development, and let out a yelp of surprise as the massive rifle bullets slammed into his body, knocking him off his feet. There came a loud shattering sound as his body armour plates completely smashed under the repeated bullet impacts, followed by the loud snapping of the weaponry breaking his ribcage.

Upon landing flat on his back, he rolled to the side, but-

"_AGH! Fuck!_" he screamed, shrinking back from the pain as he landed on the broken ribs. Thankfully, falling over had managed to land him behind a market stand, and shielded him from further gunfire. It hurt to breathe and move.

That pain he'd felt before from one cracked rib was _nothing_ compared to breaking what felt like five of them.

Luckily, his high level meant they didn't penetrate him and get his heart, but there was no way he would be moving.

In-between his pained groaning, he heard the enemy's footsteps getting closer on the other side of the market stand he was behind, and all there was only one thing going through his mind.

_That was fucking stupid._

He'd been too arrogant to think before he acted, and it had cost him dearly.

Judging by the sound of the guns he'd been shot with, they were M1 Garands. That meant they had a good amount of power, they'd shot him about sixteen times, and they were probably going to shoot him in the face...

...he was going to die.

Christ, this was his second arsekicking in twenty minutes. He was getting _fucked_ today. Perhaps he would have fared better if he'd been allowed to keep himself sharp on Dogoos or Dragons or something, but no: "_Go on a holiday, it'll be good for you, don't fight any monsters_".

Bullshit.

Ultimately, the CPUs' attempt to make him feel better had gotten him killed.

His hearing was becoming more muffled by the second.

Were those helicopter rotors he could hear?

Finally, the moment came. The Japanese and Korean men came either side of the market stand, rifles raised.

Yep.

Garands.

He was about to get a face full of 30-06.

The Japanese soldier did as he'd been trained; He kicked Jack's AK away, then delivered a boot to his abdomen. Jack curled up in response, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the floor as the two men broke into laughter, saying stuff in Japanese.

Jack knew the language, and translated.

"[Welcome to the rice fields, motherfucker!]" shouted the Japanese man, stomping on his stomach again. Jack yelled in pain, which only made his rib pains even worse.

"[I am moderately alarmed by the concentration of salami on this motorway!]" added the Korean, fistbumping his compatriot before clutching his rifle like a club and giving a solid swing into Jack's face.

Now _that_ hurt him.

The edges of his vision went dark, and blood (probably his own) splashed at his eyes. He blinked a few times to clear it up, then looked back up at the two men.

The Korean tilted his head, raised his boot, and brought it down hard on Jack's left kneecap. Jack screamed in pain, trying to reach down and grab it but being held back by the injuries to his stomach and broken ribs. Instead, he lay on the floor, spitting blood out and groaning in pain, unable to do any movements except convulsing.

The Japanese man had pulled a bayonet, and was crouching over Jack, hovering the knife over his exposed chest. He smirked, then looked Jack in the eyes. "[I find sexual arousal from pictures of plastic buckets...]" he said calmly. Jack glared at him with what strength he had left.

"[Go and...devour several orphanages...of squirrels...]" he hissed, coughing more blood.

His two opponents laughed loudly at his threat of violence. The Japanese man raised his bayonet over his head, and prepared to bring it down on Jack's sternum.

Of course, he would have brought it down.

A deafening boom from outside accompanied the sound of breaking glass as the man's hand literally exploded into gore, the knife flying straight from it and embedding itself into the Korean's thigh. Both men screeched in pain, stumbling backwards in an attempt to dodge their new attacker. A half second later, there was another loud boom, which accompanied the Korean flying backwards with a perfect three inch hole through his chest. Another half second, and the Japanese trooper's head completely detonated, flinging him backwards like a ragdoll before he finally landed in a heap on the floor.

Jack could barely piece together what had just happened.

The silence that accompanied it was almost as deafening as the sound of his own heart beating.

Turns out that movies and games weren't exaggerating that part.

He could hear the sound of the helicopter rotors much clearer now.

And the sound of footsteps coming closer over glass.

God...he was getting cold.

Maybe...

Maybe he could just...

...close his eyes for a little while.


	31. Act of Vengeance

_"Well...this is summat."_

_Jack couldn't exactly give where he was a good Yelp rating. Maybe he was dreaming._

_That probably explained why the place he was in was so ludicrously dark. He was lit from above by a light, but looking up, he couldn't actually see where the light was coming from. The gobo around him was suggesting it was a lamp of some description, especially considering the telltale signs of slight deterioration where the lamp had probably been damaged in some way and the slightly yellow tint to it._

_Otherwise, around him, there was nothing. Just a massive, black void of silence._

_Frowning, Jack tried to go for his disk, but was dumbfounded when it refused to respond._

_So...he was disarmed._

_Grumbling to himself, he kept his wits about him, and tried to piece together what was going on._

_Did he die?_

_Perhaps._

_He touched his wrist to check for a pulse._

_Nothing happened._

_"Well, I'll be fucked..." he muttered, checking all his pressure points. There was no pulse, anywhere on his body._

_So how the Hell was he still standing up?_

_Speaking of Hell, was that where he was? Sure wasn't anything else to do. Maybe that was just it._

_He did suffer a lot when there was nothing to do._

_Inhaling deeply and sighing as he put his hands into his pockets, Jack looked around the darkness to his front, left, and right, beginning to pace forwards._

_So...what now?_

_He paused, and turned around to pace the other way._

_It was then that he caught sight of an entire building that he hadn't noticed before._

_Had that been there before?_

_It looked just like your average roadside bar; Wooden walls, with a variety of vehicles outside it ranging from Second World War-era motorcycles, to a giant monster truck labelled '__**Mighty Foot**__'. Jack narrowed his eyes, wishing he had a pistol or something to hold whilst he approached. Slowly, as he began becoming illuminated by the lights outside, he could hear talking and laughter inside, like there was one hell of a party going on. Muffled at first, but it became clearer once he went up the steps and opened the door._

_Just as soon as Jack swung the door open and stepped inside, the pumping rock music nearly blasted his ears open, and he had to narrowly avoid a man in a black jacket and purple shirt tackling another man in an old Russian gas mask to the floor, both laughing as if it were just a play fight despite them literally smashing through tables and breaking glasses as they went. Jack stared at this in confusion, making his way through the crowded bar without drawing attention to himself. _

_The groups of people he was seeing were definitely not humans...not from his version of Earth, anyway. They all seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't figure out why._

_He chewed his lip slightly, and approached the oaken bar. Just between a man in a white shirt and a huge bloke in futuristic green body armour, there was an empty stool. Seeing no other choice, Jack hopped onto it._

_Fairly comfy._

_For a moment, Jack sat and looked around the bar in bewilderment. All around the room, people were having fights, but the things they damaged would somehow repair themselves in the blink of an eye. None of the fighters were in pain, either; They were all laughing off impacts and returning even more painful looking ones. Sat around the room's wide tables were groups of hardened-looking people, who all seemed to know each other somehow. _

_Around one table, cheering on the man with the purple shirt that he'd seen earlier, there was a group of people all wearing a purple motif with fleur-de-lis symbols on them. Meanwhile, seemingly rooting for the man in the leather jacket and Russian gas mask was a crowd of soldiers, welders, and typically British-looking people who all seemed to have been thrown through Hell._

_Jack frowned._

_If everyone knew each other...he was alone._

_He was just about to go to the bathroom and see if there was a machine that did those cool little toothbrushes that you can chew on, but the white-shirted man next to him spoke up. "Never seen you in here before, kid," he began in a very gravelly voice. Jack looked over at him; The man had a rather stoic smirk on his face, with a pair of sports sunglasses that had bright orange reflective lenses. Jack raised a brow, and sat back onto the stool as he continued. "Barely look like you've got hair on your chest. How'd you wind up here?"_

_"Just wandered in," Jack replied, observing the gas mask guy being slammed through a table. "My name's Jack London. Not from around here." The man raised his brows behind his sunglasses._

_"Huh, an English guy." He jabbed a thumb at the group of misfits across the room that were cheering on the man in the gas mask, who was in the process of beating the snot out of his purple-shirted opponent. "Were you with those Mercs over there? Don't think I remember them mentioning a 'Jack' at any point. Compared to them, you seem pretty tame." Jack glanced over, shaking his head._

_"Nah. Never seen 'em in my life." Whilst the music continued and his talking partner continued his beer, Jack eyed up the other man to his right. He had to have been a Space Marine or something; there was a massive logo on his shoulder pad that said '__**UAC**__'. Jack hadn't ever heard of that. As the gas masked man grabbed his opponent's collar and belt before slamming him headfirst into a wall, Jack winced, and looked back at the man next to him. "Lemme guess, rule one of this bar is that I'm not supposed to talk about it?" The man next to him shook his head, and sipped his beer._

_"Nope," came the response, "Only rule in The Arena Gunner is that you do whatever the hell you want. We're all dead, after all, so we might as well enjoy it." Jack frowned, and reclined in his stool slightly._

_"Fuck. Explains my lack of pulse." The man dismissed him with a hand._

_"Well, dead in your world. Whatever happens to your body back where you were means nothing; Right now, you're in the exact state you were in when you kicked the bucket." He flashed a grin. "You musta been having one hell of a party." Jack looked down at himself._

_His clothes were still saturated with the blood of those other guys, and still had holes in them. His hands and arms were burned, his chest had blood over it, and his trousers looked seriously fucked up. But he felt fine._

_That was all that mattered._

_The man extended a gloved hand for Jack to shake. "Name's Sam."_

_"Well, cheers then, Sam." Jack looked around for a moment after shaking his hand, then back at Sam. "So...I'm done? Here for good?"_

_"Well, yeah. Least until you leave the bar," he replied, pointing to the door. "You head out there, and there's a fifty-fifty odds of the outcome. You either get revived by someone and then you owe them beers forever, or it creates a whole different timeline and universe and all that bullshit where you __**didn't**__ get wiped out like a little bitch, and you carry on from about five minutes before you got fragged last time." Jack leaned on the bar, and rubbed his eyes._

_Well, that's definitely something: He could load checkpoints._

_"So, how'd you bite it?" Sam asked, chugging beer again. Jack lifted his head up._

_"Shot to death by two guys with rifles. Killed their mate, they killed me, and then they got shot to death by some other lucky twat." Sam just threw his head back and laughed._

_"That's all it took?" he snorted. "What, they get you when you were reloading? Caught with your pants down?"_

_"No, I was carryin' about thirteen other guns at the time. I was just daft enough to not think that they'd shoot me when I unloaded an AK into their mate's skull." Sam just chuckled to himself, shaking his head._

_"Ah, dumbest story I ever heard..." he muttered, sipping his beer. Jack sighed, looking around the bar._

_"Trust me, it'd sound crazier when I add in the parts about travellin' across dimensions, the transformin' Goddesses, their four nations, the monsters in their world, Russian gangsters, and a thirty two year old woman dressed as a slutty maid." Sam raised a brow, lowering his beer._

_"Good thing you spoke to me about crazy. Fortunately for you, I __**like**__ crazy. Did crazy shit myself; I fought a fifty story tall monster and used metal construction poles as lightning rods to kill it, then travelled through time to whoop some poor sucker's ass for wiping out humanity." Jack chuckled, leaning on the bar._

_"Sounds like summat I'd love to do. Hordes of enemies?"_

_"More than you can count, kiddo."_

_"Really. Then how much time'd you spend hidin' behind cover?"_

_"I don't need cover. I'm all man."_

_Jack mused this over for a second._

_No cover._

_"See, that was the strategy I employed. Never really used cover; Preferred runnin' out with guns blazin'." He sighed, and rubbed his head. "If you're here after you used that tactic, it's no wonder I died as well." Sam just shrugged._

_"Nah, I didn't die in battle."_

_Jack looked at him curiously._

_"Huh?"_

_"Didn't die in battle."_

_"Right...so...how-"_

_"Fell off a rooftop whilst trying to grab a secret sledgehammer that was on another building."_

_"That was stupid."_

_"I know!" Sam replied, raising his hands up exasperatedly. "Y'know something, kid? You're the first person to agree that it's a dumbass way to die."_

_"Any way of dying makes you look stupid," added the armoured behemoth of a man behind Jack. "It's just how dramatic it looks." The two men gave the space marine's words some thought. Jack glanced at him. He had a helmet on, but beneath that, he figured the bloke was probably glaring down at him._

_Then, simultaneously, Sam and Jack shrugged in agreement that it was a fair point._

_Jack looked at the sunglasses guy again. "So, why haven't you left the bar, yet?" Sam sighed, and shrugged slowly, swilling the beer around in its glass as he stared down at it._

_"I dunno. Figured I'd whittle away some time in here, first. Think I might spend a few years getting smashed, just to see what it's like to be drunk twenty-four-seven." There was a pause. "And you?"_

_"What?"_

_"You said it yourself. Real crazy sounding adventure you've got yourself wrapped up in, kid. Sounds almost like a Hollywood movie. It'd be a damn shame not to finish filming it." Jack slowly nodded. "That, and you've got your co-stars to worry about. I think they'd be pretty upset to know that the main actor just quit mid-way through the shoot."_

_Jack's mind flashed to the thought of the girls reacting to the news of his passing. He knew that Noire, Vert, Blanc, and Neptune would try to remain strong over it, but would probably still be internally broken over the fact they didn't get their in time. Maybe Noire or Vert would do a memorial service or something. Perhaps he'd get a proper burial._

_Chika would try and keep a brave face, but considering that he knew her like he did, she'd probably go to her bedroom, take a few steps, then bury her face in her pillows and cry her eyes out. She did that after they both sat and watched that one anime about the dead kids in heaven. She acted nonchalant at the start, but by the end, Chika was just sat there and bawling her eyes out._

_And Uni...Uni would be devastated. _

_He frowned, and rubbed his face. _

_"Besides, seems to me like you've got a bit of a warpath set against some asshole. Shame to leave that path untrodden, right?"_

_Jack slowly grinned, and nodded, standing up, and looking to the door. "You've got a point, Sam. I'm comin' back, and I'm gonna put my foot up your arse, Sergei." Sam smirked, and sipped his beer as Jack turned to face him again. "If I'm headin' back out there, can't hurt to ask. Any tips on stayin' alive without cover?"_

_"You got a minigun?" he asked immediately. Jack nodded. "Then there's no kill like overkill." There was a pause. Jack gave a respectful nod, and turned to leave._

_"Go get 'em, kid. I'll keep your seat warm for ya, and you can tell us all about your thrill ride when you next get back here." Jack glanced back at Sam as he went._

_"Are you serious?" he asked._

_A rather crooked smile broke the man's lips as he span back to face the bar._

_"As a matter of fact, I __**am**__."_

_There was a pause._

_Jack smiled, and began to head back to the wooden door he'd entered through. Just as he reached a hand out to grab it, there came a rather British shout from behind him. "Hey! You there!" Confused, Jack turned to face the voice. The source was the gas masked man, who had his purple-suited opponent in a headlock. "Off already, mate?" Jack nodded._

_"Aye," he replied, jabbing a thumb at the door. "Unfinished business, and all that." The masked man shrugged, struggling slightly against his victim._

_"Ah, come on, surely that can wait a bit? Don't wanna come help me dish out some punishment to this third street twat?" The man in his grip just laughed._

_"Hey! That's __**BOSS**__ of the 'Third Street' twats!" he retorted sharply with your average Londoner's accent, giving his attacker a cheeky elbow to the ribs. Smiling at the banter, Jack shook his head._

_"Nah, sorry, I can't, mate. Bunch of girls back there need savin', and I don't particularly trust the other lads I left there to get it done." The masked English guy gave an understanding nod._

_"Well, suit yourself. You'll be back here at some point, hey?"_

_Again, Jack nodded at him, and turned to face the door. At that point, there was a brilliant light coming from the other side of it, which almost forced him to cover his eyes as he swung it open, and stepped out of the bar. Just as soon as he'd pushed it open and been engulfed by the eye-mangling white glow, the door behind him slammed shut, only with the sound of the wooden impact he'd been expecting replaced with the signature sound of a 30-06 rifle firing with a deafening volume._

_As the sound faded into the void, the ringing sound went with it._

_But slowly, it returned with a much higher pitch, accompanied by a familiar, slightly Irish voice that boomed in the distance of his mind._

_"__**CLEAR!**__"_

_**Thirty seconds earlier...**_

James lowered the rifle as the Japanese soldier's lifeless shell slammed into the floor. "Suck on **THAT**, you squint-eyed wankstain!" yelled the armoured Welshman. Just then, Chaz shifted the Apache helicopter an inch or so, resisting a turbulent wind and receiving a glare from James. "Hold this thing still, you dopey pillock!" he snapped. Chaz shrugged, gripping the stick.

"You're the idiot who decided to sit on the wing," whistled the pilot. At that point, he glanced over into the building. He had utterly shattered Jack's expectations and arrived in Planeptune within ten minutes like an absolute _nutter_.

And it was a good thing.

Jack was lying on the floor in front of a window a few stories down, covered in blood, and not moving.

"FUCK!" Chaz yelled, banging on the glass. "Jack's down!"

"Shite!" James yelled, before turning to Luke, who was hanging onto the tail of the Apache. "Luke! Do your thing!" After a moment, Luke nodded, then let go of the helicopter. Just as he began to drop, he reached up and yanked the ripcord on his shoulder, pulling a parachute from seemingly nowhere and immediately slowing down his descent so that he came within a short range of the floor Jack was lying on.

Then, he cut his chute, and expertly landed on the ground beside his comrade. Luke sheathed his knife, and pulled out the defibrillators strapped to the back of his belt, beginning to hover them together to build charge.

At this point, two women came running over from behind cover. He recognised one of them from Jack's Nepchat story, and the other one was in the news article about Jack shooting up the nightclub.

Hell, didn't he _meet_ the red-haired one, at some point?

"Oh, **GODDESSES**!" screamed the wizard (_Mages, if Luke remembered it right_) as she dropped straight down next to Jack's limp body, ditching the cane she was carrying and grabbing at the corpse's lapels. "M-MR. LONDON! This isn't happening! This _CAN'T_ be happening!" The other woman (_Falcon? Falcob? Falco...m...? Something like that._) just slowed down, standing over Jack with a greatsword in one hand and the over her mouth.

"_This..._" she murmured slowly. "_...this...this isn't...no, no, this...this isn't happening..._" Luke dismissed them with a loud 'pch' noise.

"Oh, stand back, you bloody Nancies, I got this!" he groaned, raising the defibrillators. MAGES. shot him a horrified glare, with tears running down her face past a massive mole on her cheek.

"Th-This is a joke! He's full of bullet holes and you're trying to _DEFIBRILLATE HIM?!_" Luke shrugged, and checked his watch.

"Yes, and I only have another five seconds to do it before he dies," came the calm, collected response of the miserable Irishman. Then, he braced up, and put the paddles to Jack's chest with a piercing electrical whine. "_**CLEAR!**_"

The results were, as MAGES. didn't expect, instant: Jack's eyes snapped open, and so did his mouth, as he inhaled sharply, sitting up slightly and looking down at himself. There was a pause as the two women watched in disbelief, Jack patting his chest down and looking around.

"Well," he whistled, eyeing up his torso. "Fuck me, that was a ride."

MAGES. and Falcom stared at him in utter bewilderment. All the bullet holes were gone, and as Luke dumped down a massive crate with a plus symbol on it, the blood began to clean itself from Jack's clothes.

Nevertheless, they let out squeals of delight, before throwing themselves upon him in their cuddly Nep grips. "I-I thought you had been killed, Mr. London!" MAGES. cried, burying her face into his shoulder. Jack looked absolutely confused as to why they were hugging him, but chuckled, regardless.

"C'mon, ladies, I'm insulted!" he laughed, pushing them away and dusting his shirt off. "You both know it'd take a hell of a lot more than that to kill me!" He paused, and sniffed the air. "Smells like burnin'."

Luke shrugged. "Probably the defibrillation doing that," he whistled, slipping the paddles onto the back of his belt. "Got the medic box out, so you should be fine." Jack stared at him in disbelief.

"Wait...so my whole chest got ripped the fuck open..." he began, "...and so you _defibrillated_ me? What's the bloody logic in that? And why're all my wounds shut?"

"To answer those questions, I'll go in order," Luke shot back, pulling his comrade to his feet. Now he didn't feel awkward for being the only one who was taller than the two girls nearby. "First, it's what I was told to do in the event someone dies, and it'd restart their heart, which it did." Luke jabbed a finger at Jack's ribs. "Second, it's logical, because your heart had stopped, and defibrillators are what they use on Battlefields to save soldiers who fell out of fighter jets and landed on concrete." Jack folded his arms.

"No, they're not, because that kind of injury'd bloody kill you," he retorted, "Anybody who thinks that'd work is probably the same person who believes in bloody aliens and giant sharks that attack buoys when people gather around them."

"But they do!" Luke cried. "I saw it happen! You got sent on a different training regime than me, so you didn't see it, but we got shown a training film where a bunch of soldiers went around a water buoy near some islands, and this _huge_ Megalodon jumped outta the water and-"

"Fuck off, Luke," Jack sighed, before patting him on the back. "Just accept that I've said cheers for savin' me." The squaddie next to him opened his mouth to retort, then sighed, smiled, and nodded.

Jack turned his attention to MAGES. and Falcom. "Right, girls," he began, "Tell me exactly what happened here." MAGES. swallowed, and nodded.

"Yes...of course." She cleared her throat. "I was searching for ingredients for my next invention, and then across the room, there was gunfire and demands for everyone to get down. I was not exactly prepared to just become a victim, so I took cover and fired on the shooter. After a few minutes of us trading shots, another seven gunmen arrived, and after a minute or two more, Falcom rushed in and eliminated two of them." Jack glanced at the red-haired adventurer, who brushed her bicep with a hand.

"Fuck me, that sounds like it was awesome," he said, raising a brow and placing his hands on his hips.

The adventurer blushed slightly, and waved a dismissive hand, bashfully gently side to side. "It...it was nothing..." she muttered, rubbing the back of her head.

"At the point you had arrived," MAGES. continued, "I had run out of SP potions, and was firing off my last shots at the remaining three. That was when you stormed in and..." She hesitated, avoiding Jack's gaze. "...ahem." After a moment, Jack shrugged, and began withdrawing all of his weapons in turn, checking them as he faced Luke.

"Well, at least we know that eight of these slimy fuckers are gone," he said finally, racking the action on the RPD and inspecting it, before switching out for the dual Matebas and looking at the cylinders. "Luke, I assume Chaz got you here?" Luke nodded.

"Yeah," he replied, "Brought Josh and James, as well." Jack paused, then smiled.

"Fantastic, a full team. Tell Chaz to drop off the other two. We're goin' up as a team." Luke tilted his head.

"Why, what's the plan?" he asked. "Aren't we letting the CPUs arrive?"

"Well, how many said they were comin'?"

"All of them are on their way."

"All of them? Why? Thought this was only a Planeptune problem."

"The Planeptune Markets have a few high-value targets; Bankers, politicians, and reality TV stars all have offices here."

"...and...we're...supposed to _defend_ these dickheads?"

"Yeah. I told the CPUs that we'd be glad to get them out of here."

"Then you're a fuckin' idiot."

"How?"

"Of all the types of people I hate, those are just _three_ of the types at the top of that list. The others include the Germans, French, Canadians, social justi-"

"Right, shut up, this story's not a place for you to vent political views," Luke cut in, raising a hand. "Fact is, there's people in the building who the CPUs want us to help get out alive. So we're gonna be getting them out."

"_Sod_ that..." Jack muttered, sighing and rubbing his head as he turned and began pacing. At this point, James and Josh had managed to rappel down onto that floor of the tower, and made their way over to the group. "Ah! James! Josh! You showed up."

"Yeah, we did," James replied smartly, Arctic Warfare cradled in his arms. MAGES. eyed him up and questioned how such a short man was able to support the weight of two handguns, submachine guns, a sniper rifle, and a full set of body armour. "If we didn't show up, _you_ would currently be dead."

"Fuck off."

"What, and leave you to get raked with bullets, again?" Josh added snarkily. Falcom looked the man up and down and questioned why he was the only one out of the group who looked ever-so-slightly homosexual. Jack just shrugged at the comment.

"Well, it's gonna happen at some point," he said flatly. "And when I was dead, I went to the afterlife."

"**No, you didn't.**" everyone said simultaneously.

"I got to speak to some other guys who used my strategy of not using cover."

"**No, you didn't.**"

"The guy I spoke to said I should use the minigun I picked up earlier."

"**No, he didn-**"

Jack's phone rang.

"_Jack, it's Chaz. I just heard you say you have a minigun._" The recently-revived man put the phone to his ear.

"Aye. And a rocket launcher. Why?"

"_First off, that's fucking __**sick**__,_" Chaz began, "_And second off, it'll help. I just did a quick fly around of the tower. Looks like the guys with the hostages are taking them all to the top floor._"

"You didn't shoot them?"

"_Couldn't. Too much risk._"

"Piss."

"_That's not all. I saw some guy in a red uniform running around the building behind IF, but it didn't look like he was trying to attack her._" Jack frowned, and looked at the phone.

"What?" he asked. "Someone on the other side's gone rogue _against_ the rogues?"

"_Yeah. Considering he's got IF with him, looks like she's probably gonna have told him not to attack us._"

"Not like we wouldn't be able to handle him anyway."

"_Well, he's got an RPG-7. So good luck with that._"

"Bollocks!" Jack snapped. Luke tapped him on the shoulder and leaned in to listen. Jack covered the phone's mouthpiece. "He said there's a bloke runnin' around the buildin' with Iffy and an RPG." Luke gave an understanding nod. "OK, so what can we do from here?" Chaz thought for a second.

"_Well, if I had to suggest anything, it'd be to keep going up the building as a group, and wave that minigun around like a dildo at a feminist rally._" Jack gave an understanding nod at the totally accurate analogy.

"Got it," he replied, turning back to the group. "Circle the building and keep pace with us, Chaz. You see anyone comin' towards us, waste the fucker."

"_Alright then, sounds good to me._"

Chaz hung up, and Jack placed the phone back into his pocket. He then looked at his team.

James, a marksman who stood still often but always hit.

Josh, a close-combat user with a posh accent.

Luke, who was little more than your average squaddie in equipment terms.

MAGES., who Jack was yet to see in a fight.

Falcom, who Jack knew fairly well and thought was pretty alright in a fight.

Chaz, who was currently sat behind the controls of a chaingun that could kill Glasgow.

And he himself, who had literally just died and was just about to lead a suicidal charge up a tower infested with highly dangerous combatants.

It was at this point where he withdrew his minigun and yanked the charging handle, garnering loud cries of '_WOAH, WOAH_' from the others. Confused, he looked at them. "What's up?" he asked calmly. Luke looked stunned.

"Jack...Jack, there's a fucking _line in the sand_ as to what you can do to people!" he cried. Jack shrugged.

"Yeah? They killed me, so I earned this."

"That's not a valid excuse to saw them in half with bulle-"

Luke's phone rang. He answered. "Hello?"

"_Fuck you, it's a perfectly valid reason!_" Chaz snapped, before hanging up. Luke looked at his phone blankly, then groaned, and rubbed his face.

"...fine. Fine." He withdrew his L85, and ensured it was loaded, as everyone else gave a brief weapons check.

"Alright, Mr. Loondumb, you seem to know what's going on," Falcom began, "So what're we doing?" Jack pointed to the massive atrium gap in the center of the tower.

"What we're doing is gettin' to the top floor. That's where Sergei Crashyourmum's hidin'. Already waxed a few of his boys in the weapon hall, and I'll tell you; They're hard lads, with big guns. I think some might have RPGs and flamethrowers. The only advice I have is to stay out of sight and only strike when you know you'll kill them. No room for subduin' them." The smaller woman nodded, and Jack glanced at MAGES.. "MAGES., you try and do some magic on them from a distance." The wizard tilted her head and adjusted her hat slightly.

"I'm not exactly a combatant," she replied hesitantly, "But I will see what I can do, Mr. London." Jack turned his gaze to Luke and James.

"I need you two supplyin' coverin' fire. Luke, make sure they keep their heads down. If they go for our flanks, make sure they leave empty-handed, or in a bag." Luke nodded. "James, make sure the area near your shootin' position is clear, and then provide overwatch." The Welshman gave a thumbs up. Jack then turned to Josh, and paused.

"...you sure your strategy's not a bit risky?" he asked. Josh rolled his eyes.

"I invested in a sword the other day, I can do this," he groaned, "Got some pistols as well."

"Draw their attention." Jack paused, then reached into his satchel, pulling out the single frag grenade he had left. "Worst comes to worst, use this, shove it in a bloke's mouth, and pull the pin."

MAGES. winced at the mental image as they turned and headed towards the staircase in a light jog.

"And what're you doing in all this?" Josh asked.

Jack just smiled in a predatory manner, raising the minigun up wickedly as he slowly advanced up the stairs.

"Gettin' serious."


	32. Floor 100

Initially, MAGES. and Falcom didn't think that the attackers with the guns were capable of much more than they already had done; Simply put, all they'd achieved was a basic hostage scenario by using threat of violence to keep victims in line.

But as their advance upwards continued, with squad after squad of their enemies dropping like sacks of flour under their companions' hurricane of bullets, the grimaces on each of Jack, Luke, James, and Josh's faces indicated that they probably had reason to be concerned about their opponents' other motives.

Also, MAGES. was pretty sure she was going to become deaf because of the absolutely ear-destroying noise of close-proximity gunfire. How was Jack still able to hear anything after firing the minigun with no ear defenders?

As they reached floor seventy six, there came an unusual humming noise from several floors up. Jack glanced around and eyed the floor around, keeping the minigun lowered as the group advanced to the next staircase. "Anyone else hearin' that?" he asked, scanning the atrium. "Low hummin' noise. Few floors up."

"That sounds like floor one hundred," Falcom noted, brushing the back of her head slightly but keeping pace with the others. "That's the weapons and dungeon crawling gear floor. That's...that's where you-"

"That's where I was when this all kicked off, aye," Jack nodded. "Managed to..."

He paused.

"...deal with...some...guys."

MAGES. grinned.

"Ah! So you disarmed, subdued, and apprehended them!" she chuckled, a smug grin on her face. "That's the London I know." Jack swallowed, smiling nervously, following along behind the group as they went up a set of stairs.

"Ahaha...if by, 'disarm', you mean, 'dismembered'...then..._yeah._" MAGES. suddenly stopped smiling as Luke began chuckling.

"Heheh. 'Disarm'." He glanced back at Jack. "I get that one. Because you cut their arms off." Jack hefted his massive gun in his left arm, paused, and pointed a finger at Luke.

"_Ayyy._" came his rather strained comment. He was quick to grab the gun again, as the veins on his left arm began to look like a topographical map of a mountain range. "So," he gasped, wincing and rolling his left shoulder. "Any ideas what's up there?" Luke shrugged, keeping his eyes down the sights.

"Not a clue, mate," he replied calmly. James tilted his head, moving at a steady speed up the stairs.

"Me either. Sounds like a machine, I suppose."

MAGES., despite being rather disgusted by what Jack had just admitted to, thought hard for a moment.

Then her eyes widened in realization, and she stopped dead.

The others looked at her, as she stared at the ground wide-eyed. "What's up?" Josh asked.

MAGES. swallowed, and looked up from beneath her hat brow. "...I recognise that noise." Jack shrugged.

"Alright. What is it?"

"It'd the sound of an Avenir Anti-Gravity Generator. A very distinctive sound; No other company produces an anti-gravity generator that creates a noise." Falcom frowned.

"Isn't Avenir responsible for most military contracts?" MAGES. nodded.

"Indeed. That means I have reason to fear we'll be facing a _very_ tough opponent shortly."

"Really?" Josh asked, once more idly inspecting his pistol's magazine. "What makes you think that?"

"I helped design the generator a few years ago."

A few eyebrows raised.

"Really? Fuck, you're clever," Jack whistled.

_'Maybe she can help me with my little science project...'_

"The generator was used successfully in a number of autonomous drones, enabling them to hover and fly as they needed. The generator worked fantastically. Naturally, the military saw potential in this, which was somewhat the project's downfall."

"But I thought you just said the military accepted it?" Falcom noted, as the group began up the stairs once again.

"They did," MAGES. nodded, "But after a number of international field tests, the models were deemed 'inhumane for combat situations involving humans'." Jack suddenly felt a bit more confident.

"Ah, well, that's what they said about me, wa'n't it?" he replied cheerfully, somehow slipping into a London accent in spite of the fact he had never actually lived in London. The others just chalked his change of accent up to the author realizing London wasn't being comedic enough, and ignored it. "I got more methods of doin' 'arm than the North Korean NHS! Said that if I joined the army, the other countries'd all shit their pants and surrender and make our army redundant!"

MAGES. shook her head at his very close impression to your average British plasterer. "The problem is, once they were kicked off the battlefields, they were quickly rebranded by Avenir for the civilian market. The noise upstairs in consideration, I have reason to believe our adversaries may have found and deployed some of these drones."

Jack shrugged. "How hard can it be?"

The instant reaction of Josh, James, and Luke was to flash back to the amount of times that Jeremy Clarkson said that, and how often it foreshadowed massive cock-ups.

_**A few minutes later, on floor 100...**_

"Holy shite, you weren't joking about fucking them up..." Luke whistled, poking Jack's chainsaw victim with his boot. As a welcome back gift from when he'd last been there, the rather repugnant smell of blood and intestinal juices hit Jack's nose, prompting him to grimace, but shrug nonetheless.

"Yeah, you know I don't lie much," he said calmly, before gesturing all around. "Besides, there's a bunch of guns on the floor if you want them." Luke tilted his head side to side, crouching down to have a look at an M4 rifle.

"Eugh, Yankshit..." he murmured. "'ere, James. Come have a look at this one. Who the fuck paints and puts stickers on their gun?" The Welshman wandered over, crouching next to his friend and eyeing the rifle in question.

"Oh yeah, you're right..." he murmured, inspecting it whilst stroking his chin. After a moment, he put his lower lip out and shrugged. "It's fuck ugly."

"Yeah. Bet this dickhead paid a few hundred over the odds for this thing, too. The fact he ruined this rifle with a shitty paintjob and stickers is just Globally Offensive."

Meanwhile, MAGES. had already gone pale, covered her mouth to stop herself from being sick all over herself, and dropped her staff in horror, before running over to a nearby stand to vomit behind it.

Jack looked worriedly at the direction she'd gone in, then glanced at Falcom. "You...you alright with this?" he asked hesitantly. The woman looked only a tad upset, then nodded.

"I already knew you like to do this kind of thing," Falcom sighed, leaning on her sword whilst the pleasant harmony of MAGES. heaving loudly and Josh squealing in fright after Luke chucked a piece of brain matter at him rang out behind them. "I mean...the nightclub was pretty harsh, and this is a **whole** new level of just...nah...but...you made it pretty clear from the start that you're not a 'talk-it-out' kind of guy." Jack thought about it for a moment, leaning on the nearby stand that had been flipped onto its side and thrown. Near his foot, he could see someone's head split open like a melon where the metal market stand had landed on them and crushed their skull.

Fuck. He needed to get more of that STR stuff. _Good_ shit.

But regardless, he wasn't sure if Falcom was entirely right. Like, literally the _first_ thing he did in Gamindustri was stop a war with his tongue. And of course, the sense of satisfaction that came with knowing he'd stopped it was great. But the fact he was a good fighter as well probably meant nothing.

As he thought, he cast his gaze over to MAGES.' legs. He could see them trembling behind a stall, and in front of them, there was a pile of brown slop. "She gonna be alright?" Jack asked, not taking his eyes from MAGES.' location. Falcom sighed.

"...I dunno. Probably best if you go talk to her."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and trying to block out the smell of human blood and gunsmoke.

_'How'm I meant to calm MAGES. down after __**this**__?'_

Eventually, he slowly exhaled, bending down to pick up the magician's staff that she'd dropped. "Alright." Without a further word, he stepped over the meaty red brain paste coating the floor in front of him, and made his way over to where he had seen MAGES. standing.

After vaulting one of the desks, he moved a set of boxes out of the way, and made his way into the 'alley' between the different stalls. There, he was greeted by the sight he had been expecting. MAGES. had removed her hat and coat, placing them onto some boxes. She was leaning against that stack of boxes, breathing heavily, shaking, and teary-eyed. He slowed as he approached, finally stopping when he was about eight feet from her.

"Ah...MAGES.?" he began carefully, before cautiously offering out her staff. "You...you dropped summat..."

The magician offered him no response, instead continuing to stand and breathe heavily, staring at a pile of her own vomit with a horrified expression plastered on her face.

Slowly, Jack leaned the stick against a nearby crate. "I'm...I'll be over there...if you wanna join u-"

"How?"

Jack froze.

"Eh?"

MAGES. shot him the dirtiest look he'd ever seen her give anyone, and he shifted uncomfortably. "How could you do something like this to other human beings?" she repeated. Jack thought for a moment, then slowly shrugged.

"Them or me. I had to subdue them, or they'd've killed me."

"Mr. London, as hard as this might be for some trigger-happy oaf like you to comprehend," she snarled, "There's a _difference_ between 'subdue' and 'murder'. What you've done here is the latter, and it's _sickening_." Jack glanced at the pile of vomit on the floor, and gestured to it.

"I can tell," he replied flatly. "Now listen-"

"No, _**you**_ listen," MAGES. snapped, standing up and jabbing a finger at him. "Monsters, I can handle. Armed terrorists, I can handle. You nearly dying, I can handle. What I **cannot** handle is you committing a massacre of this scale, and not even showing a _hint_ of remorse. If I had to guess, you didn't even try to negotiate terms of surrender with them, and just outright opened fire. You're...you're just...you're _**inhuman**_."

"I'm _efficient_," Jack corrected, folding his arms. "I took four STR boosters at once and killed an entire platoon of the world's most dangerous soldiers, _single-handedly_. If I didn't waste those motherfuckers, you wouldn't fuckin' well be here, would you?" MAGES. opened her mouth to retort. "Don't you fuckin' cut me off, I've got more to say."

She narrowed her eyes and bit her tongue to avoid lashing out.

"Accordin' to Luke, they shot down a _civilian helicopter_ earlier. Innocent people have died, and you think I want to negotiate with these cunts? They're _scum_, MAGES.. They're scum that I'm going to take pride in wiping from this tower, with or without your help." MAGES. shook her head, but before she could make a comment, James called out.

"_Jack! Radio chatter sounds like they've figured out where we are!_" At the sound of this, Jack began to leave.

MAGES. sighed, rubbing her forehead. "In this situation, it's difficult to tell if you're the villain, or them."

Jack paused, and faced her again. "This isn't about heroes or villains. This is about me and my guys takin' on Sergei and his guys. You wanna talk heroes and villains, then fine." There was a hesitation as he stared right into her eyes. Finally, he spoke after a few seconds. "You wanna talk hero?" MAGES. set a serious expression onto her face, and nodded.

"More than anything."

"Then you've got two choices. One, you stay here, hide, and I'll get Chaz to come pick you up and take you to ground level so you can run home like nothing happened. You made it out alive, and you can tell the world what the heroes were doin' when nobody else would act." MAGES. folded her arms, snorting slightly.

"And two?"

Jack stared flatly at her.

It just occurred to her now that she'd never seen Mr. London being this serious about anything.

Jack grabbed MAGES.' staff, and offered it out to her. "Two. You take this staff, help us fight our way to the top, and you _**be**_ a goddamn hero. No middle ground here, MAGES.. You comin' with us?"

She hesitated, and stared at her own staff.

She had never been so reluctant to take her weapon's weight into her hands. And yet here she was, debating whether she could do it, now that she knew just what she was getting into.

Just as she reached out to grab it, a loud bang smashed the silence. The fabric back-cover of the stand they were behind suddenly ripped, and Jack was forced to step back as a bullet pinged off the metal crate beside him. At this point, he chucked the staff at MAGES., turned and jogged out of the alleyway, drawing his minigun as he went. The sound of the device spinning up came as a steadily increasing whir, before a second later came the deafening _bzzzzzzzt_ of it spewing out bullets like crazy.

MAGES. stepped back slightly in response to catching her staff. Her heel stepped in her vomit, causing her to yelp loudly and stagger back, barely catching herself on a nearby box. She wasn't even _in_ the fight and she was struggling to breathe.

Ahead of her, at the alley's exit, she could see Jack, Luke, and James, holding an effective line against the incoming enemies.

Jack was occasionally flinching on receipt of bullets, but Luke and James weren't doing as well; The former of the two was diving in and out of cover, breathing heavily whenever he received a shot. Eventually, he placed down one of the healing boxes from earlier, but he remained behind cover.

James was doing _very_ well in not-being hit, but eventually he took a _single_ shot, which knocked him over and forced him into cover. It was in cover that she noticed how fast he reloaded; He had his pistols reloaded in a split second every time he went behind cover.

Maybe he'd been trained to do such things in a short Time during a Crisis.

Just as she considered how she could possibly help them, there was a sudden metallic scrape beside her feet. Looking down, she noticed that a floor grate was moving, a disturbing green glow emanating from it as the panel shifted.

Slowly, MAGES. stepped back, gripping her staff tightly. Finally, the vent cover was kicked straight upwards, flying from its mount and coming to rest just to the side of it. After a hesitation, the escapee rather quickly pulled himself out, revealing himself to be a man clad all in black tactical gear, with a pair of night vision goggles that emitted an ominous green glow. Clutched in his hands was a small rifle, and clipped to his belt was a baton similar to Mr. London's.

For a moment, he stayed in a crouch, staring ahead at a wall. Then, he turned to face MAGES., looking almost blankly at her.

She had no idea what to do, and so she did the same, the sounds of battle raging around the two of them outside their alley of (near) tranquility.

MAGES. noticed that her phone was emitting an unusual buzzing sound now that this man was present. Was he jamming her mobile phone?

After another few moments, the man turned to look back down the alley at where MAGES.' male companions were making their stand. His gaze seemed to linger on Jack, who was still firing the minigun like nobody's business. In the direction he was firing it, the sounds of the bullets' recipents seemed to indicate that the other side was not doing so well.

The tactical green goggle man looked at the floor for a moment, almost as if he were considering something.

But _what_ was he considering? Attacking London?

The vent man finally decided to remain in a low crouch, turn around, and crouch-run in the other direction, still saying nothing as he tottered away down the alley, eventually disappearing from MAGES.' view as he reached a vent in a distant wall, pulled it off, and clambered into it, before picking it up and replacing it in its original position.

MAGES. stared at this in concern.

Did she just have one of those random encounters where it doesn't affect gameplay and is just there as an easter egg?

Because if she did, she _really_ hoped it wouldn't come back and bite her posterior.

Sighing, she looked back at Mr. London, who was beginning to show signs of injury; His stance had shifted, as though he were barely keeping himself stood up with his right leg. Luke was on his knees, vomiting up a thick foaming jet of sick, gore, and what was probably his lunch from earlier, before he leaned back against cover and feebly wrapped bandages on his wounds. James was trying to plug the three holes in his chest using coins.

MAGES. huffed, narrowed her eyes, twirled her staff, and pulled her hat lower.

Mr. London wanted her to be a hero?

He would have no idea of heroism until he saw what she was capable of.

Slowly, she began to pace down the alley, keeping her head down and ignoring the bullets zipping past her head.

"Such pathetic weaponry..." she mused, finally stepping out of the alleyway. Within a few seconds, the thugs at the other end of the room would open fire on her, too.

She put her plan into action.

Raising her left arm towards the enemy, MAGES. channelled her inner energy into her most dangerous move: _The Blasphemous Theoretical_. Inhaling deeply as the ground began to shake, MAGES. made sure to plant her staff into the ground for extra dramatic effect.

"_**Behold!**_" she cried loudly, twirling her staff as the enemy gunfire suddenly focused on her. "_**The ultimate combination of science, and magic!**_"

Jack listened to her words and beholded what she was doing, but still did not stop shooting rounds downrange. Multi-tasking was one thing British people were good at by default, as well as conquering lots of countries at once, and drinking lots of lager then shitting in a bin.

Somewhere along the line, a number of purple rings had formed in a protective shell around MAGES., causing the bullets that approached her to simply disappear in a flurry of data. Yet, in spite of the combined firepower of at _least_ thirty men, MAGES. was just as calm as ever, slowly swiping her hand across her face as she began to hover.

The winds were picking up, Jack noticed.

But how was there even wind?

They were indoors...

Before Jack could even quiz MAGES. over this, she snapped her arm forward again. "_**Utter your final words!**_" she shouted. Across the room, the large cluster of men was dragged together into the center of a large purple pentagram-covered circle, their cries of dismay and confusion quickly turning to yells of pain, mixed with the deafening roar of something utterly inhuman that was probably something to do with MAGES.' oddly satanic ritual.

At this point, Jack let go of his minigun's trigger, and placed it on the floor. When his ears stopped ringing, he noticed the incredibly low hum that accompanied MAGES. magic, _and_ just how much the floor was shaking.

He turned his bewildered gaze back to MAGES., who had extended her staff out to her left. A huge, dark ball of energy appeared at the end of it. "_**You will be forever trapped between dimensions!**_" shouted the wizard, before she cast the sphere towards the group of enemies. Within a moment of its impact, the ball had turned into a huge black hole which began to suck in everything that was near it; Market stands, some dead bodies, and most importantly, almost every single one of the men who had been firing on them.

Jack felt an unstoppable pang of sadness as he contemplated just how many of their guns he would never get to steal, watching the screaming soldiers disappear into the abyss.

A few seconds passed, and the black hole died down, MAGES. slowly descending back to Earth.

Across the room, Jack heard an American shout "_Fall back!_", accompanied by cries of panic and a few dozen footsteps that steadily became quieter. A thick bank of smoke was pouring from what looked to be a damaged portable generator, obscuring a section of his sightline directly across, but from what Jack could gather, at least 75% of the market stands that were originally in the room were now drifting between dimensions.

The room had a _huge_ empty patch in the middle of it. Lying all around, there was a number of things that didn't look to have been picked up by MAGES.' unstoppable singularity; Potions, a few bits of body armour, and ammunition, all arranged in neat lines and spaced evenly about.

Jack stared at the scene in utter shock, rubbing his forehead. "What...what the utter _fuck_ was...?"

He paused, and looked at MAGES., who was smirking in what looked to be self-satisfaction. "...I...I don't think you realize just how fuckin' awesome you just became," Jack said finally. MAGES. just grinned.

"It was their own mistake in crossing the Mad Magician," she said smartly, twirling her staff.

Before Jack could profess his love for her and her insanely destructive powers, MAGES. frowned. "Do you hear that sound?" she asked suddenly, looking out over the arena. Jack was confused for a moment, but then he noticed it.

Humming.

It was different from earlier.

This time, it was _much_ louder, and was occasionally intersected by a heavy smashing sound.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and picked up his minigun, limping steadily into the open arena. As he went, he swept a nearby HP potion up and drank it in one go. Whilst he initially winced at his wounds being forcibly pulled shut, he simply bit his lip and stuck with it. Now that he wasn't on the verge of death, he could walk upright.

After a moment, he stopped, and stood in the center of the wide open hall, aiming his minigun around the sides of the 'ring'.

The humming and crashing became louder.

It was originating from behind the smoke.

"Those sound like footsteps, MAGES.," Jack called back. "I thought you said it was a gravity generator or summat."

"I did," replied the magician. "Though it is entirely plausible that Avenir used the technology for something else."

Jack kept his gaze ahead on the smoke as a silhouette began to steadily appear in it.

Said silhouette was roughly twenty feet tall, and some elements of it were glowing bright red. It was humanoid...kind of. That didn't count the massive horns atop where Jack figured its head was, and the fact its left arm looked to be one solid object rather than having fingers.

Eventually, the smoke from the generator gave way, and Jack grit his teeth, pushing his sunglasses up his face.

Slowly stomping towards him was what _used_ to be an Ancient Dragon. Judging by the amount of metal on it, the thing had probably been captured, and had a whole bunch of Avenir cybernetics equipment grafted into its body. Its left arm, however, was entirely gone, replaced with some fuck-huge blaster cannon of likely immense power.

Not only that, but it was easily four times taller than Jack, meaning it probably used to be an Alpha Ancient Dragon.

MAGES.' jaw dropped completely. "_A-A beast...fused in unholy matrimony of dragon and machine..._" she stuttered. Jack steadied himself.

"Don't need your William Shakespearin' right now, MAGES.!" he yelled, cutting her off as the giant creature stopped in front of him. "Get the others out of here!" After a hesitation, MAGES. began nodding, then turned and rushed over to get James and Luke healed and headed for the escape.

Jack glared up at the creature. "One of the only things standin' between me and Sergei Smashyournun is you."

The behemoth just bared its teeth at him, raising its arm cannon slightly in preparation. A glance into its mouth showed a large amount of blood and fabric, as well as a set of dog tags hanging limply from the creature's lower canines.

Jack grinned.

"I'm gonna hazard a guess and assume the Yanks tried fightin' you."

In response, the monster stepped forward, taking a wild swing at him. Jack barely dodged it, but the strike had hit his minigun and thrown it clean across the room. He stared at this for a moment, then looked back at the Cyber Dragon.

OK, that was a line crossed.

"That's it, I'm gonna turn you into fuckin' glue," he said firmly, withdrawing the rocket launcher from his disk and levelling it with the dragon.

He hadn't used it before, and now was as good a time as any.


	33. Cyberdragon

The recoil of the launcher slammed against Jack's waist with a similar force to when any of the girls decided to jump-hug him, so the recoil wasn't an issue.

The real issue was that he wasn't very good at anticipating travel time for missiles.

For every five rockets he was firing, only about two or three would actually make contact with the Cyber-Dragon, which was unfortunate when he made note that it was about twenty-five feet tall, insanely pissed off at him, and absolutely capable of tearing him in half.

That meant doing what he did best: Making up a plan on the spot but continuing his existing plan of 'turn it into meaty paste'.

The ground shook with the force of the monster's footsteps, punctuated every moment or so by the deafening boom of a missile striking its armoured chitin-like scales. It was stomping after Jack, constantly launching small rocket-like projectiles from the launcher on its arm as it relentlessly pursued him around the large arena. The windows on the far side of the room began to shatter from the deafening noise and percussive force of the explosions, half-filling the room with the sound of sirens below.

The officers down there had no idea just what the hell was happening on floor 100. All they could hear was gunfire and occasionally see individual rockets streaming off into the darkening sky. Nobody wanted to send another helicopter up, not after what happened to the news chopper.

But fortunately for Jack, there was a helicopter up there.

Slinging the launcher to his hip and hefting it with one arm, Jack pulled his phone out and immediately dialled up Chaz. "Chaz! Floor one hundred!" he barked, keeping his eyes on the massive grey beast in front of him whilst continuing to pound it with rockets.

"Alright, I got him lined up," the pilot responded, remarkably calm behind the controls of the Apache. "Huge bastard." Jack grit his teeth as another missile slammed down next to him, spraying his leg with shrapnel.

"I DON'T NEED A FUCKIN' COMMENTARY!" he yelled angrily, dodging to the side as the Dragon roared, stomping its right leg forwards aggressively to try crushing him. "WASTE THE BASTARD!" Before he could give any more expletive-laden orders, the Cyber-Dragon recovered from its stomp, before it delivered a powerful sweeping backhand with the cannon and sent Jack flying across the room.

Normally, that would've done Jack in for the fight.

This time, with remainders of STR potions and pure adrenaline rushing through his veins, Jack landed on his back, backwards rolled, and pulled out the RPD, completely ignoring the crippling pain that tore through his nerves and questioning why he had taken out the RPD...

Wait.

He had no minigun.

He needed to get that back from the other side of the room.

Snarling, he brought the Soviet bullethose to his shoulder and opened fire towards the Dragon's head.

The beast flinched, raising its metal cannon to deflect as many shots as it could, before it lowered the cannon, roared, and slowly raised it up. But before it could begin charging up a shot, an ear-shattering drone came from the far end of the room, accompanied by a hail of 30mm shells slamming into the Dragon's chest as Chaz opened up with the Apache's gun.

It definitely felt the shots; The Cyber-Dragon moved back at least ten feet in response to the impacts, though the fact it raised its arm for protection once again meant that Jack had no clear shot at its face.

But whilst it was distracted, he realized it was the best time to make his move towards the minigun.

Jack dropped the RPD and went into a full sprint towards the weapon, which was lying in the corner of the arena amongst a few armour plates and health potions.

He broke into a slide towards the area, before crouching down and drinking two small health potions. Then, he grabbed the reassuring weight of the minigun and stood up, levelling all six barrels towards the Cyber-Dragon as it veered its cannon towards Chaz's Apache. The stream of small missiles restarted once again, blasting out back towards the helicopter whilst the Cyber-Dragon began strafing away from the incoming gunfire.

The Apache stayed at a hover outside the window, strafing from side to side to avoid the incoming projectiles. The sound of the 30mm cannon tearing away shattered through the Planeptune night sky, which gave Jack some perspective on what the Taliban's daily life would sound like.

The Cyber-Dragon was definitely feeling the heat, and that was good enough for Jack. He span the minigun up into its firing speed, and steadied himself on the floor as a stream of bullets hosed from the end of the weapon, bringing huge force and almost sending him backwards. Now that the monster was taking shots from two angles, it seemed more like it was struggling to decide who to fight.

However, its decision was finalized with a brief roar as it tanked a Hellfire missile, choosing to point its arm cannon towards Chaz's helicopter and spray missiles towards it.

"Oh, fuck, that's not good," Chaz cleverly deduced. For a brief moment, he let go of the cannon's trigger, gripping the control stick tightly and engaging evasive manoeuvres against the flurry of explosive projectiles. Try as he might, though, Chaz was unable to evade every projectile, and the punch that a single rocket was almost idiotically high-damage against his aircraft.

The first impact seemed like it had originally been aimed towards the missile pod on the wing of the Apache, but Chaz's evasive manoeuvres had instead changed its impact point to the 30mm cannon. The massive explosion beneath the cockpit threw the chopper's course way off, sending it spiralling backwards away from the building. Chaz yelled out in panic, wrestling the flight stick as audio warnings filled the cockpit. "Bugger!" he cried, forcing the aircraft against the direction that the explosive force had sent it in an attempt to level out.

Gritting his teeth, Chaz straightened out, and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing.

Fuck, the explosion must have knocked the gun systems offline!

"Jack, we got a problem," he began, pulling the controls towards the right and slipping the chopper away to a windowless side of the Planeptune market tower, out of the beast's sightlines. "I think that hit just knocked the guns offline."

A glimpse at his aircraft's reflection allowed him to see that the entire main gun was gone.

"Yeah, update on that situation," Chaz continued, "We don't have a gun, anymore." He paused. "Hello?"

Jack couldn't hear him; He'd dropped the phone when the Cyberdragon decided to slap him across the room.

Of course, even if he did have it, Chaz's voice would have been inaudible over the ear-shattering buzz of the minigun tearing away at the Cyberdragon, as well as Jack and his opponent having a 'loud noises' battle. Jack was letting out an almost constant yell of rage, whilst the Cyberdragon retaliated by roaring almost constantly as Jack's hail of small-arms fire pinged from its boney flesh and metal cannon.

The two were circling each other constantly, both keeping up an endless stream of firepower to see who dropped dead first. Jack's legs were pumping like never before, hefting a minigun and keeping him moving at almost twenty miles an hour through the power of sheer adrenaline alone. His opponent, meanwhile, was shelling him at a constant rate, small rockets detonating to his left and right as if in an endless, repetitive sequence of ordnance.

It would only be a matter of time until one of them changed the routine.

Finally, the Dragon made its move; It changed its course from the constant circling, and began advancing directly towards Jack, still blasting him with a constant stream of missiles. The floor was an absolute wreck, meaning that Jack was having to be careful not to trip whilst he was backing away.

Where the Hell was he backing away to?!

He glimpsed over his shoulder.

Not good.

The Cyberdragon was forcing him towards a smashed window.

"So that's your game, eh?!" he yelled, turning his head back to the beast, keeping his finger on the trigger and distance between him and the Cyberdragon.

A moment later, he stopped firing to grab a support rod, barely saving himself from the 100-floor drop to the concrete and crowds below. Rushing winds blasted his face as he dropped the minigun and snapped his gaze towards the Cyberdragon.

It stopped firing, lowered its arm into a charging position, then got ready to sprint.

"Fuck."

The Cyberdragon let loose a roar more deafening than any of the others it had released prior, and what was likely a pair of thrusters on its back screamed into life. Flames spewed from its shoulder blades, and the creature suddenly lurched forward with a great speed.

Jack got ready to dive out the way.

Wait.

It'd land in the crowds. They'd be slaughtered.

He grit his teeth, glared right into the eyes of his fast approaching enemy, and pulled out the chainsaw.

Then, letting out a breath, he began to run towards the Dragon, yanking the starter cord on his saw and holding it high over his head, the sound of a snarling engine and the smell of petrol fumes filling the air.

The Cyberdragon roared again, lowering its right arm further to aim for Jack.

The distance closed rapidly.

Then, as soon as he was within range, Jack leapt up as high as he could, and raised the saw.

Immediately on contact with the Cyberdragon, the forwards propulsion continued, and he found himself pinned to its arm and not even a few feet from its gaping maw of bloodied teeth.

He let out a yell of pain, and peered over his shoulder whilst the Dragon attempted to stop itself before the window came near.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

No feet.

The giant monster's huge mass and momentum had rendered it unable to skid to a halt in time, its giant feet getting caught on the edge of the window frame and sending it tumbling head over heels out into the Planeptune sky whilst it flung Jack clear.

Below, he could see hordes of police cars and civilians, rushing ever closer as the ground rapidly neared.

He narrowed his eyes, pulled the double-barrel from his disk, and aimed the weapon behind him.

Time for the climax.

"Let's do this, ya fuckin' ponce!" he shouted, firing off both triggers and forcing himself to fall even faster towards the Dragon. Thankfully, its newfound technology had rendered it unable to fly due to the added weight, which left it nearly helpless as Jack screamed towards it, chainsaw pointed forward like a lance as the shotgun was left in freefall.

The Dragon looked at him, flailing its arms to try and stop him, but in doing so put its hand in the way of the gnashing edge of the logging appliance. The churning metal teeth bit right into the creature's hand. It roared in pain as the appliance's motor pulled Jack closer to the Dragon's body, giving his feet purchase on its chest.

Giving the chainsaw a firm yank to free it from the fleshy mess that was once a hand as the two continued to near the ground, Jack shifted forwards to boot the Cyberdragon in the jaw. Its head swiped to the right, but as it opened its mouth to try and bite at him, Jack was able to deliver the finishing move.

He grabbed the monster's arm to pull his feet against its stomach, one-handedly gripping the saw and squeezing the trigger. As quickly as he could, he got himself at the correct angle, stabbed the saw down, and managed to get it straight into the Cyberdragon's heart.

Then, he did as he was destined to do, and pushed it further.

The blades tore through the flesh on the Dragon's chest like wet paper, the massive mix of arterial content and battery acid spraying all over Jack whilst the monstrous creature screeched in defiance. There was some resistance as the weapon hit metal, but after one firm yank, Jack ripped the chainsaw from the right shoulder of the now-limp monster.

Jack looked over the Dragon's shoulder.

He was nearing the bottom.

Shit. That was only about five seconds of fighting?!

Fuck, he was GOOD!

As fast as he could, he clambered onto the corpse's shredded chest and braced himself against it. The sounds of sirens became much louder, as well as the screams of people below.

Only a matter of time before he hit the ground.

The loud hum of the monster's generator was still persisting.

In fact, it seemed to be getting louder.

That became the least of Jack's worries; There came an ear-shattering explosion and cloud of dust as the massive corpse slammed straight into the concrete, smashing apart the road and forming a huge crater in the street. Whilst it wasn't as bad as just hitting the ground himself, Jack admitted: Even with the Dragon between him and the concrete, that shit SERIOUSLY fucking hurt.

For a few moments, Jack struggled to force himself back to his feet, drunkenly trying to find purchase on any part of the corpse so he could clamber onto its chest and prove he was alright. This went on for about two seconds, but he finally managed to stagger up to the top of the monster's broken chest cavity. Dust was still filling the area, but it was thinning out quick enough that he was able to make out the crowds peering out from behind cars. The police officers had guns raised at him.

He needed his double barrel.

Where was...?

Oh, right.

He could just about hear it.

Either he was gonna look like a fucking idiot here, or he was gonna look fucking awesome.

He raised his hand above his head, pointing upwards as the whooshing sound became louder, and braced himself for impact.

And, as if by some act of god, the shotgun slammed down into the dirt beside him barrels-first, digging itself into the soil.

Without a word, he jumped down from the corpse of the Cyberdragon, walked over, grabbed the shotgun's grip...

...and the stock fell off.

Shit.

Never mind. The grip was still there. He'd always wanted a sawed-off, too. Just have to roll with it.

He hefted the weapon onto his shoulder, and clambered onto the Dragon's body once more. Then, he looked over at the police as his sunglasses finally snapped in half and fell from his face.

"Af'ernoon, Officers!" he called out. "Just gettin' some unwanted guests out!"

Excited talking washed through the crowds as the police slowly, but confusedly, lowered their guns away from him.

"Excuse me! Sir!" one Officer yelled. Jack glanced at her.

"What?" he snapped. "Can't you see I'm gloatin' over here?"

"Your leg!"

Jack frowned.

Shit.

She was right.

Shit she was right shit she was right shitshewasrightGAAAHHHHTHEFUCKINGPAIN

He grit his teeth, and looked down at his leg.

His leg was facing the wrong way.

That was adrenaline: he hadn't noticed that when he jumped down grabbed the shotgun.

But now that the adrenaline surge was over, holy fuck the ungodly pain.

He winced slightly, and rested his weight on it.

His training had taught him how to identify a wound by the type of pain.

He couldn't feel any bones grinding. Not a break.

There wasn't any section with specific pain, besides the upper shin.

Good.

He's just twisted his kneecap 45°, that was all.

Grunting, and looking for a spot to fix his leg, he identified a small gap between some rocks. Carefully, he slid down as police officers began to carefully enter the crater, guns drawn. At the forefront, there was a younger woman who didn't seem too different than any other woman he'd seen walking around. "U-Uhm...s-sir," she began, approaching him carefully. "D-Don't move around too much, you'll do damage to it-"

Jack just raised a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, you don't need to lecture me, Mum," he muttered, slipping the affected leg into the gal he had identified. The Officer opened her mouth to protest, but immediately went pale as Jack suddenly lurched his body to the right, a sickening crack accompanying his loud groan of obvious pain.

For a moment, he stumbled, and grabbed hold of the dead Dragon's thigh as a means of support. After a moment of breathing, he looked to his right, threw up a small amount of bile, then shook his head, exhaling as he stood up straight once more. The woman, and women with her, stared in a mix of disgust, shock, and awe at Jack's...interesting first aid skills.

Jack grunted, and clicked his back one-handedly, the double-barrel hanging limp from his right hand as he did so. "Fuuuuuck..." he muttered, closing his eyes as a series of loud snaps rang out from his spine. "I'm gonna need a set of powered armour, soon." After a moment, he exhaled steadily whilst the police officers moved to cordone off the crater's edge, and reached for his phone.

Wait.

Crap.

That was still on floor 100. He'd dropped it when the big bastard had slapped him across the room.

He groaned, and clambered onto the top of the dead Dragon, looking up at the Market tower.

A lot of the windows were blown out. There were searchlights all over the building. Circling, he could see Chaz's helicopter. Presumably, he was going to find out where MAGES., James, Luke, and Falcom were, then give them support. A lot of smoke coming from the front of the chopper, though.

Whatever.

Considering that the others were on their way down, he figured it would probably be best if he just waited for them.

Letting out a relieved breath as he sat on the torn flesh of the deceased Cyberdragon, he could still hear the humming of its chest generator.

Perhaps it was just a very resilient generator. Props to Avenir.

As he sat down, he began to rustle through his bag, to see what there was to have a go with. Alcohol and cigarettes weren't a good idea. Jewellery wouldn't be needed. Chocolate wouldn't help his digestion...

...what about a cigar?

He paused, his mind flashing to cigar-chomping legends like Will Smith in Independence Day, Winston Churchill, his old Staff Sergeant Johnson, and Al Capone.

He then also considered mouth cancer.

Not fun.

Shrugging, he decided to opt to leave his bag alone, and recline on the giant body like it was a sunny embankment, shotgun barrels resting on his shoulder whilst he gazed around. The crowds around the edge of the crater were talking once again, and he was squinting at the mix of orange sunlight and camera flashes that assaulted his eyes.

Then, he smirked, stood back up, and raised his fingers in a 'V for Victory' towards the cameras, shotgun pointed down in his right hand. His public image had taken a nosedive, recently. Perhaps this might repair it a bit?

As the flashbulbs illuminated Jack, even if only for a moment, he smiled.

He was a hero again.

But just as soon as that moment had arisen, it was quickly dissipating: The mechanical noise from the dead body below him suddenly sped up, changing from the low hum he knew to a loud, jet-like whine. Immediately, Jack leapt off, bringing the double-barrel to his hip and stepping away from the Cyberdragon's lively corpse.

Suddenly, the air arced with electricity, and the dead monster spasmed violently, blue tendrils of energy strangling each part of its body like demented barbed wire. The crowd of civilians immediately let out screams, as the police officers opened fire with their pistols and the SWAT teams with their rifles. Jack was almost tempted to join in, but it seemed as if it wasn't worth it.

The electrical surge stopped all of a sudden, leaving the area with the loud hiss of smoldering flesh. The gunfire stopped as well, and a fresh round of steady applause broke out: The cops had done it, the beast was dead!

Jack narrowed his eyes.

Of all the shit he'd thrown at it, there was no way in Hell that a bunch of weak pistol-fire was all it took to kill it.

Slowly, he approached it, keeping his shotgun trained on its head.

The smell of sizzling scales became apparent to him. The body of the Cyberdragon no longer looked like metal parts strapped to the beast: Instead, it seemed like the flesh had melted to the metal, fusing it all together.

"That's fuckin' wrong..." Jack muttered to himself, looking at the beast.

Just as he got near, a blinding light scorched his eyes he was thrown backwards by an almost explosive force, barely keeping on his feet near the edge of the crater as he skidded to a halt. The crowd behind him, once again, began screaming their heads off, and presumably started to run.

Shaking his head clear of the ringing noise, Jack stared back at the Cyberdragon in disbelief.

The thing was being lifted into the air by some ungodly force, lightning and energy screaming through the air as it slowly levitated back onto its feet. The lightning stopped once it was upright.

Once again, the whirring of the Cyberdragon's arm cannon resounded through the Planeptune air. It glared down at its former murderer, gore and electrical components leaking from the massive holes in its right hand and chest, as it once more raised its cannon shoulder and bared teeth at him from across the craterous arena.

Jack grinned slightly.

"Back for more, eh?" he yelled over mockingly, pointing at its chest. "Kicked yer arse once, I'll do it again!"

At this point, the monster stepped back briefly, and grabbed its cannon forearm. It twisted a panel around, and suddenly the cannon extended slightly, revealing a hidden compartment.

Slowly, the Cyberdragon raised the cannon upwards, and there was a loud hiss as four canisters shot out of the cannon, landing on different sides of the arena.

Then, Jack watched as each canister was surrounded by three glowing purple data bursts, each one steadily forming into a human-like shape.

What the fuck was it...?

"Oh, you've got to be fuckin' jokin'." he said, his jaw dropping slightly.

"End of the line, London." The three Black Hearts to his right grinned at him, and held their swords in combat stances.

Well. At least they could pronounce his bloody name.

Another set of hisses prompted Jack to snap his attention back to the Cyberdragon; It was launching smaller pods around the arena area, all the while staring straight into Jack's eyes as if to mock him. The smaller pods briefly flickered, before projecting their own data clusters, each one forming a different type of monstrous opponent after an Avenir makeover.

Across the arena, the Cyberdragon was now accompanied two recently created MechaFenrirs. Surrounding him, Jack could make out Metal Dogoos, Bit drones with mounted fireball launchers, M-3 drones, and other totally deformed versions of the monsters he knew and loved to stomp on.

There was a pause, as these creatures began hissing, snarling, and spitting at him, waiting for their opportunity to attack.

The Cyberdragon lowered its arm, turning the panel, and reverting its cannon to its intended form.

Jack narrowed his eyes, and put his double-barrel into its normal grip.

"Come and get me, you iRobot rejects."

The Cyberdragon roared, prompting the monsters and CPU replicants to screech in agreement, immediately beginning to charge Jack.

It was on.


	34. Fight Like Hell

The roaring mix of gunfire and monster noises became more clear to the three armed men, MAGES., and Falcom as they headed downstairs. Luke and James were clearly struggling a fair bit, grabbing onto whatever they could to support themselves during the descent. Josh was making sure neither of them died. MAGES. and Falcom, however, stayed silent.

The only noise between all of them, not counting the wheezing breaths of Luke and James, was the sound from downstairs.

What was going on downstairs?

The noise from _upstairs_ had stopped.

Had Jack won? Had the weird monster thing won?

Whatever had happened, the shooting and explosions were finished, too. As they quietly slipped down towards the thirtieth floor, MAGES. spoke up.

"I can only hope that the other girls are OK," she mused, glancing to Josh. "You don't have their contact numbers, do you?"

Josh shook his head, prompting James to start laughing weakly, leaning on a railing.

"Course he wouldn't have their numbers," he chuckled, looking to MAGES., then to his still functioning friend. "He only takes blokes' numbers." Josh stood still for a moment as Luke joined in the pained laughter. MAGES. and Falcom were confused as to how they were finding entertainment in these dark times.

Finally, Josh walked up to James, and kicked him in the right ankle. Immediately, the Welshman crumpled downwards like a Socialist economy, letting out a yelp of surprise as he hit the floor.

Luke cleared his throat, then prepared to continue forwards. As he put pressure on his leg, it gave way, prompting him to hiss loudly and land on his back, breathing heavily.

"Actually," Josh piped up, looking to the others, "It might be an idea to hole up here for a while. I don't think that dragon thing's gonna follow us down seventy flights of stairs." The group of mismatched fighters glanced at each other, shrugged, and nodded. Josh, now deciding he was de-facto team leader, gestured to a nearby set of market stands. "We'll get set up over by those stalls. MAGES., Falcom; see if you can raise any of those girls you mentioned, and stand guard. I'll see what I can do about Dick and Dom, over here."

MAGES. gave a respectful nod. "As you wish," she replied calmly, before gently turning and beginning to dig through her phone in an attempt to find Tekken's number. Falcom slung her sword onto her shoulder, pulled up a crate to sit on, and watched the east approach, idly scratching her chin.

Meanwhile, Josh had dragged Luke over to a market stand, leaving James slumped by the railings. After removing Luke's vest, he pulled his jacket apart, to reveal the poor state of his comrade's armour. "Christ..." Josh whistled, taking out his knife to cut the shoulder straps of the ballistic vest. "Were you dodging bullets or hugging them?"

Luke responded with an angry muttering, clenching his fingers hard onto his L85's pistol grip in an attempt to alleviate at least _some_ of the pain he was going through. Then again, he wasn't really in a place to talk about taking a lot of bullshit.

Jack had gone off to fight a huge fucking mutant dragon, and it sounded like all the gunfire had ended.

From _upstairs_, at least.

So, if it had all ended up there, either the Cyberdragon was now drawing its final breaths through one of its many new arseholes, or Jack's remains were scrambled across the place like the leftovers of a deer hit by a speeding freight train.

Of course, the gunfire downstairs meant the police might have been engaging terrorists.

Or, Jack had managed to bring the fight downstairs, which Luke was _really_ hoping hadn't happened.

Wincing as Josh put a sewing needle through a gaping .44 wound in his arm, Luke leaned his head against the market stand behind him. After a moment, he sighed, unclipped his helmet, and dropped it down next to him. "Fuck."

Josh looked up at him. "No shit, you're gonna be saying 'fuck'. Half the bullets you tried blocking with your body are still in here. Now hold still, there's a big chunk of three-oh-eight next to your jugular that I need to pull out."

Luke groaned, tightened his grip on the edge of his helmet with his fingertips cracking loudly in protest, and Josh put his fingers into Luke's gaping bullet wound to retrieve the foreign object.

MAGES., meanwhile, was growing concerned about the noise downstairs. There was a _considerable_ amount of gunfire, mixed with explosions. With the fact in mind that the noise from upstairs had stopped, she was simply going to have to assume that London had somehow survived a fall from that height, and began fighting either the police, or some other enemy.

She sniffed the air, leaning on her staff.

There was a _strong_ smell of Lastium in the air. The metal, which was rare enough in itself, was pretty much exclusively reserved for anti-gravity generators, but the creature London had been fighting...it looked like it had one in its' chest.

MAGES. deepened her thought process, furrowing her brow and stroking her chin. If she didn't figure this out, she was gonna be kicking herself for it. Bad habits of a scientist; The ones you don't solve are your worst memories.

She thought back to the noises she'd heard as they evacuated. Considering the brief, repeated explosions, she guessed it was using an automatic arm launcher, and the creature _had_ looked like it was stitched together, so it would probably have needed a power source to keep working. That was something that confused her a good bit; Avenir would normally just use Share adaptors to keep their devices powered. There wasn't a law against that, even though it was incredibly effective _and_ had the side-effect of drawing power from nearby Share energy sources. That in mind, that dragon wouldn't have needed an anti-gravity generator for anything. Something of its size wouldn't get any tactical advantage from lifting itself off the ground, and the arm launcher alone was powerful enough to level a city block.

There was nothing it could use an anti-gravity generator for.

Unless...

MAGES. eyes narrowed.

"No..." she murmured. "They _can't_ have done that."

_**Downstairs...**_

One of the mecha-Fenrirs released a piercing screech, the ten foot-long beast being the first to throw itself at Jack from the rear. He reacted fast, twirling on the spot and lighting it up with both barrels, the deafening boom of the twelve gauge mixing with the metallic clang of the creature's natural flesh being torn straight from its face and dropping it to the ground.

Jack wasted no time in reloading his shotgun, expertly sliding in two shells in a rapid display of sleight of hand before snapping it shut with a one-handed upwards flick.

Behind him, he heard one of the enemies making a move.

Jack swept low, raising his fist and delivering a solid uppercut to the steel framework of an M-3 drone, before using his stance to throw himself upwards and out of the horde of surrounding monsters.

His brief glimpse of them in the air confirmed his concerns. There was a bloody lot of them.

Not a single one could be allowed out of the arena alive. They could easily slaughter dozens of innocent people.

On landing, Jack grit his teeth at the sharp jolt of pain in his previously twisted leg, but simply decided to bear it for the time being. Without a second's respite, he threw away the double-barrel before pulling out the RPD, yanking the charging handle, then holding it at the hip as he began firing and running.

The LMG's recoil wrestled against him, sending a tempest of 7.62x39 tearing towards the heaving throng of monsters and shredding holes in those it hit. Undeterred, the creatures kept up the heat, relentlessly pursuing him as he led them around the large crater. Every so often, one of them would fall foul of Jack's bullet paintbrushing, only to be swiftly replaced by another creature pushing its way through the pack.

Jack grimaced, jumping backwards over a large gap in the ground.

There was no way he could kill them all.

Not without some missiles; And lo and behold, the rocket launcher got knocked out of his hands up on floor 100.

He was _not_ doing well today.

His mind kicking into overclock mode, he continued gunning down as many of the advancing beasts as he could whilst he formulated a plan.

'_I need explosives,_' he thought, dodging a fireball and kicking a large rock at the thrower, '_Or something that can run through shit without challenge..._'

He realized something, punching through what was left of the first Fenrir's jaw and ripping out its neck.

That's it: The Challenger.

But how the Hell was he gonna get it? The bloody thing was halfway across Planeptune and had probably already been clamped because he went 100% Jew, and didn't pay for the parking.

His train of thought was broken off as he narrowly avoided a massive axe slamming down in front of him, shattering the ground. The force of the impact split the earth, almost instantly creating a large chasm that Jack couldn't see the bottom of. On the other side of the gap, the hordes of monsters desperately tried to stop themselves, a few falling down into the hole and their cries of fear fading into echoes. Jack stepped back, raising the RPD and assessing the axe's head.

Then, he looked to his right.

Staring back at him, a wicked grin plastered on its' face, was one of the clones of White Heart. It lifted the axe one-handed, slinging the weapon onto its shoulder like it weighed nothing. Seconds later, it was joined by another of the clones, followed by the last of the three.

Gritting his teeth, Jack began to back away, his machine-gun aimed dead towards the lead White Heart's face as they steadily began to pace after him. "_**What's the matter, London?**_" they asked in unison, all bearing the same, disturbed grin. "_**Don't like powerful women?**_"

Jack squeezed the trigger, landing a shot right into the leader's right eye. She staggered back, screaming in pain and clutching at the injury with a free hand.

"Nah, I prefer 'em fuller-chested," Jack retorted flatly.

The two other White Hearts were quick to respond; The one to Jack's right let out a fierce battle cry, throwing itself forward with its axe raised high. Immediately, Jack hopped to his right to avoid the swing, swapping out his RPD for the .44 revolver. The gun was in single-action, but if Clint Eastwood taught Jack anything, it was the art of racism, death stares, grimacing, and revolver techniques.

As soon as he'd landed, Jack pivoted into a crouch, revolver held to the hip as he snapped the hammer back, releasing a round of .44 into the White Heart's ribcage. The bullet made a loud crack as it hit the ribcage, and the White Heart began to react.

Jack's hand swept down over the hammer spur in the blink of an eye, resetting it and chambering yet another round that was fired immediately, smashing straight into the clone's jaw.

Jack was able to land four shots before he broke into a run, the final clone in hot pursuit and the other two White Hearts lying screeching in pain, mechanical fluids dripping from their wounds.

No time to fan the hammer again; That was just asking for trouble. Instead, he just had to keep moving. Ahead of him was open ground, leading in a wide arc towards the Cyber-Dragon.

'_If I get that bastard, this lot should all sod right off._'

Jack grit his teeth, pumping harder than ever to make it across the battered ground. In retaliation, the huge creature raised its cannon, levelling it towards London and baring its teeth. As its arm came up, a trio of crimson light beams emanated from the tip of the cannon, pointed at London.

Jack couldn't feel them doing anything to him. The beams weren't damaging him.

As he processed the situation, the Cyber-Dragon shifted its weight, stabilizing itself on the rocky ground as its arm slowly began to light up with a blue energy.

His mind clicked.

_**Those**_ beams weren't the ones meant to damage him.

"Fuckin' Hell!" he cried, diving sharply to the right in the blink of an eye. The Cyber-Dragon's aim didn't shift in time, the lock on beams remaining exactly where they'd been before he dived. The Blanc clone behind him made its' best effort to change course, but to no avail.

The Cyber-Dragon let out a mighty roar, which was cut off suddenly by a deafening explosion that ripped from its arm.

He barely had time to see what had happened as he picked himself up and carried on running, but between the three laser pointers, there remained a faint, cyan smoke, hissing and crackling in the air in a trail that led to where Jack'd been a split second before.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as what was left of the White Heart clone's body continued on its forward path, scraping along the floor for a good distance, crumpling over some rough ground, then finally slamming into a rock and exploding in a ball of plasma, throwing pieces of the ground up and spraying him in a molten shower of earth.

...yeeeeeah, fuck that.

The Cyber-Dragon let out another roar, as its cannon suddenly sprung open, venting blue plasma with an almost steam-like hiss. To deal with it, the monster stepped onto the back foot, hefting a large boulder with its mangled right claw and lobbing it at Jack. The man barely had time to dodge, with the huge rock hitting the ground like an asteroid and smashing the ground apart.

On reflex, Jack tried to pull out the rocket launcher, but then realized it was almost a thousand feet above him. Instead, he opted for the next best solution: He whipped out his trusty Mossberg, loading in a single high-explosive shell and racking the pump to chamber it, before beginning to return a volley of explosions towards the monster. The Cyber-Dragon clearly hadn't been expecting it, but it seemed more than happy to return fire; It grabbed the open vent on its cannon, forced it shut, and raised the weapon, beginning to rapidly circle the arena and launch its own barrage.

Meanwhile, Jack could see the other monsters carefully leaping the gap made by the White Heart clones, and one by one, beginning to chase after him.

_'Fucking lovely, just what I needed.'_

With his eyes out for rockets, Jack threw the Mossberg back into his disk, and pulled out both the RPD and AK. Slinging them to his hips, he was forced to slow down slightly to keep himself steady under the recoil of both machine-guns spewing out hot metal. The small bullets began chipping away at the Cyber-Dragon's chitinous hide, flakes of its' rock-like skin flying off with each shot of 7.62.

The monster seemed to like this even less than it did with the explosive shells, beginning to flinch noticeably under the hailstorm of bullets. Eventually, the creature was forced to shield itself with its' huge cannon, which gave Jack the chance to deal with a few of the monsters that had been getting a little too close.

Turning suddenly, Jack was just in time to catch out a Mecha-Fenrir that was just about to start lunging for him, bullets hitting the massive wolf more frequently than Chris Brown hit Rhianna. The beast, in its' lunge, was unable to avoid the projectiles, taking all of the shots from both Soviet bullethoses as it flew towards Jack. The Fenrir let out a synthesized yelp as its' left foreleg was completely torn from its cybernetic frame, spewing oil and fluid as it crashed into the ground like a ton of bricks.

Grinning, Jack brought the guns to bear on the next monsters, who were just beginning to scramble back from him. "_**COME ON, YOU UGLY MUNTERS!**_" he roared, once more squeezing the triggers of both weapons and unleashing another ballistic tempest. The horde of creatures let out their sounds of anger, and began a mixed bag of reactions.

A few of them ran.

A few more stayed and took the bullets.

And one or two of them made an attempt to go for Jack, but ended up being sheared in half by the amount of bullets they were struck with.

It was as Jack began to steadily march on the creatures that he remembered something.

_**'There were other CPUs.'**_

Just as that thought popped into his mind, he felt something solid slam into his spine, throwing him forward a good few feet and forcing him to make an emergency combat roll, ditching the RPD. Spinning on his back as he went, he put his feet out to stop himself from sliding too far, then raised the AK.

Resting in his sights was one of the Green Heart clones, idly twirling its' spear with a playful expression on its' face. It was suddenly joined by two similar clones, both wearing that same smirk.

"_Come now, Mr. London,_" the trio said in their predatory way, "_I thought you said you preferred fuller chested women?_"

London thought for a moment.

"I don't have a comeback to that," he responded flatly, "So to be clear, I'm gonna rape all of your corpses." In the brief moment that the Green Heart AIs tried to formulate a response to that interesting comment, Jack tugged the trigger backwards, once more lighting up the area with the deafening roar of Mikhail's bullet orchestra as the lead Green Heart began dancing on receipt of the bullets. The first group of shots ripped through its' stomach apart; The rest ripped through the clone's arms, legs, and ample chest.

Barely a split second after the first had begun to drop to its' knees and grab at its' injuries, one of the other Green Hearts threw itself towards Jack, lance pointed forwards in a charge as it cried in rage. Jack turned towards it as fast as he could, gripped the AK in both hands, and threw it towards the clone. Unable to stop in time, the copy raised its' left arm to protect its' face, which was when Jack took the chance to strike. The other clone began circling, waiting for the right chance to strike at him.

He span to the left, going to the outside of the clone's thrust. As it began passing, he grabbed its' right wrist with his left hand and stepped behind it, yanking its' arm upwards one-handedly. The clone let out a scream as its' arm dislocated, accompanied by the clatter of the lance hitting the floor.

Without skipping a beat in the violent rhythm, Jack whipped out the double-barrel, levelled it with the clone's spine, and pulled both triggers, sending forth a devastating wave of buckshot from both the barrels that ripped through the clone. The ground in front of it exploded as the pellets passed through, accompanied by a spattering of mechanical parts. The inside of the clone was now little more than salvage that could be seen through the ragged hole in its' synthetic flesh. The replicant let out a synthesized screech and dropped to its' knees, grabbing at the hole with its' one good arm.

Jack raised his boot and forced it against the back of the clone's head, slamming it down into the dirt and crushing the flimsy copy's skull beneath his foot, grinding it against the floor as added insurance before stepping off and reloading the shotgun.

Jack didn't let his guard down.

One left.

He glanced around.

Where was it?

He caught sight of it.

It was running away.

Jack grit his teeth, sweeping up his recent victim's lance. "Oh, no, you don't."

He steadied himself, holding the lance like a javelin and aiming just ahead of the clone.

The wind was good.

Jack took a deep breath, stepped forward a bit, then slammed his arm forward, sending the weapon flying towards the Green Heart. It sailed through the air gracefully for a few seconds, like Paul Walker when the car hit the tree.

The clone barely had time to react as the lance sailed up behind it. The clone yelped, and swept right, barely dodging the projectile. As soon as it steadied itself, it looked at the projectile for a few seconds, then slowly turned its' glare back to London to intimidate him.

The clone's head promptly exploded when Jack shot it straight in-between the eyes with the Mossberg's explosive shells. The machine's anti-gravity servos disengaged, the motors stopped running, and the Vert clone dropped to the floor in a heap, the stump of where it used to have a head still smoking and spewing sparks. Jack brought the shotgun towards himself, racking the pump to chamber the next shot and beginning to jog once again.

"Six down," he muttered, "Six to go." He kept his eyes out: Now that the White Heart and Green Heart clones were dead, he was dealing with the Purple Heart and Black Heart clones. And whilst he was pretty well versed in dodging spears and axes due to their single-directional hits and easily-avoided swinging arcs, he now had six opponents with big swords. That meant they were a lot more capable of both blocking his attacks, and hitting him more accurately.

If they landed a swing, it'd do a hell of a lot more than just knock him on his ass.

Keeping his eyes open, he turned most of his attention back to the Cyber-Dragon, which had begun kneeling down to perform repairs on itself. It didn't seem to be aware of him, and it was fully open ground between him and his enemy.

Jack narrowed his eyes, pulled out the chainsaw, and began charging the monster. It had its' cannon out, and was using what remained of its' mangled right claw to repair a few panels which had come loose in the gunfight. Not only that, but the inside of its' skull was visible; Bone and steel could be seen through a gaping hole in its' face that had been blown open with an explosive shell, baring the rows of sharpened teeth that it had tried scaring Jack with before.

Then again, each tooth was about half his height.

So Jack was probably doing the right thing by being careful.

He tried keeping his approach as subtle as possible, dodging behind whatever large rocks were available, and it seemed to be working.

Just one final stretch to run up and...

The air beside him felt slightly warm.

With barely a split-second to spare, Jack span, raising the chainsaw defensively and barely keeping balance as a huge purple blade slammed against its revolving teeth, throwing sparks and awful noises throughout the air. Jack forced the blade away from him, but was once more put on the defensive as he heard a second blade come from behind. He flipped the saw upside-down to point behind him, and had to battle to keep it over his head as a second blade swept down onto it.

He grit his teeth and looked towards his first attacker. One of the Purple Heart clones was already spinning into a second swing, and he had no way of dodging without the attacker behind him getting a hit in.

But if he was remembering rightly from that time he sparred with the _real_ Purple Heart, the sword was unable or at least struggled to pierce the armour on his legs and arms.

As the massive purple blade came searing towards him, he raised his right leg defensively, angling it to parry the incoming strike. A shower of sparks and data flew from the contact between shin-guard and sword, with the Purple Heart clone's eyes widening with shock as the sword began bouncing back.

That was all the chance Jack needed.

He threw his foot straight behind him, hoping for some contact behind him with his rear attacker's knee. When there was none, but he felt the top of his thigh touching what felt like the crotch area of an attacker, he forced himself backwards, shoving the bladesman behind him to the ground with a yelp.

'_That yelp sounded like Lady Noire_,' he noted. The yelp was immediately halted as he flattened her with his body weight. He cast his eyes forward towards the Purple Heart, who saw that he was on the ground and took its' chance. Yelling a battle cry, the purple-haired clone raised its' sword over its' head and began swinging it downwards towards him.

Jack waited for it to be halfway into the downwards swing before he moved.

He rolled sideways and off the Black Heart clone, barely avoiding the weighty blade as it crashed down onto the robot behind him. The clone let out a scream that was swiftly cut short as it exploded, throwing Jack and the Purple Heart a good distance away from each other. Shrapnel laced into his back, prompting Jack to yell out in pain, before his rolling momentum forced the shards even further into his back.

Steadily, he dragged himself to his feet, revving the chainsaw and spitting out a mouthful of blood. Around him, the Purple Heart clones were gathering, the remaining two Black Hearts had dropped down, and the Green and White Hearts he didn't confirm were destroyed had performed crude repairs on themselves.

All around, he was being circled, made even worse as the horde of monsters joined the ring, slowly pacing around him, baring teeth and brandishing weapons.

Jack put on his serious face.

Through this whole ordeal of bullshit, pieces of steel had pierced his back, he'd been bashed in the spine, dislocated his knee, been shot dead, resuscitated, shot almost to death again, blasted with rockets, charged out of a building, then barely survived the impact, only to be chucked against another horde of cunts.

He'd been told to go out for a day with some of his friends, and these fuckers were ruining it.

Not only that, but his mind flicked to the thought that they'd actually decided to capture some of his friends.

Especially Cave, who he was pretty desperate to apologize to.

So now, he was absolutely _furious_.

He thought of his injuries.

Trivial, all of them.

Whereas at one point they hurt, the huge amount of adrenaline surging through his body completely number him to all of that.

He was gonna fucking end this, _**right now**__._

He locked eyes with the leading Black Heart, pulsing the chainsaw's motor in short bursts as the clone stared at him with the resting bitch face that Noire always wore.

The robot briefly laughed, then readied its sword, prompting the other clones to bristle with their weapons.

His eyes briefly flicked over the crowd surrounding him.

There...

...there was actually a good chance he probably wouldn't make it out of this fight.

But insurmountable odds and little-to-no chance of success...

...that was something he could never ignore.

The ground shook slightly as the Cyber-Dragon slwoly approached the outside of the group, staring down at him. It bared its' teeth in the same way it did when they first met, only this time, a good amount of its face wasn't there anymore. The cannon was smoldering and leaking sparks and small plasma flames; Its hard, bone-like body was littered with craters and scars from London's attacks; What remained of its right claw was a tattered, gory mess of blood and metal; And the humming from its chest was louder than ever.

Jack slowly turned on the spot, staring down every enemy as they snarled and snapped at him.

He was well and truly surrounded.

And he was being perfectly honest in rescinding his previous statement about his survival odds.

There was _zero_ chance he would be walking away from this.

Mentally, he reprimanded himself for not giving some of the finer things in life a go. Like cigars, investing in his own house and car, or convincing some lovely lady to do the dirty with him because they're both bored.

And as he went through his mental notes to figure out if it was possible to save a backup or something, his mind flicked back to training.

He remembered Captain Blazcowicz approaching him after one of the training matches failed early on in the year. Jack had just cowered as the other team pelted him with marker rounds, winning them the game after his whole team was wiped out.

And whilst he'd been expecting a ribbing, he got...something else.

"_Listen, kid,_" the Southerner had began, placing a hand on his heavily bruised shoulder. "_I saw whatcha did out there. Good thang you survived that long. But you threw it all away. You knew you'd be taken down, didn't ya?"_

Jack had nodded.

"_There's inevitably be a point where that's your situation: Alone, and surrounded, with no escape. But you can't just do what you did, where you sit and wait for the end."_

Jack had wiped his bleeding eye. "Then what else'm I meant to bloody do?"

The grin Blazcowicz pulled remained burned into Jack's mind as the face of a man who knew _exactly_ what a cornered wolf could do.

"_Bring as many of the bastards with you as you can._"

Jack momentarily paused.

His mind flashed to the motto of his training unit.

"_**They will be demons; But you will be worse.**_"

Then, he smiled wickedly, and cast his glare back to the Black Heart clone.

"I hope you're as thick-skinned as the real Noire."

Instantly, the clone was upon him, raising its sword as it soared towards him. Jack reacted, swiping up with the chainsaw and parrying the blade to the left. The clone grunted, continuing forwards, giving Jack the chance to hold the saw one-handed and wrap his left fist around the clone's neck. The machine halted immediately as if it had been clothes-lined, using both of its hands to try and remove Jack's powerful grip from its throat.

Behind him, a roar.

One of the smaller Mecha-Fenrirs was mid-lunge.

Jack span, his spin giving the saw the momentum it needed to smash teeth-first into the Fenrir's head. Whilst it wasn't forceful enough to go through, it knocked the wolf to the side, redirecting its flight into a group of Metal Dogoos and flattening them instantly.

Back to the clone.

Jack fluently turned the spin into a choke-slam, pounding his left fist into the dirt with the Black Heart in his grip. The machine let out a garbled yelp, with Jack quickly releasing his grip and-

Incoming.

Just in time, he ducked low as the remaining White Heart's axe sizzled through the air above him, almost decapitating him.

He gripped the saw with his free hand, and held it low like a bayonet-charge as he turned towards the axe's source. The clone of the Lowee Goddess was just finishing that swing, both of its arms to the side. Judging by how they were moving, it wanted to connect with a second swing.

No chance.

Jack darted forward, forcing the saw into the abdomen of the machine. The moment contact was made, green and orange mechanical fluids began spraying out of the wound like a hosepipe, the clone immediately freezing and screaming, shaking as Jack pulled the saw back and forth in the small frame of the robot. Eventually, he had just the right position to-

There!

One firm yank upwards and the saw was free, exiting the left side of the clone's jugular circuits in a brilliant display of robo-gore and flame.

Jack flicked his attention back to the Black Heart that was barely picking itself up. He slammed a boot on the robot's chest, pinning it to the ground, before bringing his fist down on the clone's face. It caved in like a pile of wet tissue paper, the metal frame being remarkably weak.

Right away, something latched onto his back for an attempt at dragging him down.

His reaction was to raise his knee and bring it straight backwards like a piston, just as he had done before. However, this time it was accompanied the metallic _**SNAP**_ of a clone's leg breaking, accompanied by the pre-recorded scream of Purple Heart. The clone's grip loosened, and Jack took advantage in the lapse of restraint.

Immediately, he span, briefly ditching the chainsaw to the realms of his disk so he had both hands free. He shoved his right hand into the mouth of the clone, punching out a few teeth in the process, before quickly planting his left hand on the machine's bosom and getting his right fingers gripped around the robot's (_remarkably lifelike_) inside jaw.

Then, with one yell, he pushed with his left hand, and pulled with his right, prompting the sound of something that could be likened to a piece of juicy, boned steak being crushed beneath a boot, as the Purple Heart's jaw was torn ragged from its face, trailing synthetic muscle and machine oil as it was ripped off. The tongue inside wagged violently in a bottomless mouth as the clone screeched, flailing its arms as it was flung onto its back with a snapped leg and no jaw.

Jack figured that was enough.

He barely picked up the sound of something flying through the air towards him in time.

With no time to duck, the flat side of a spear cracked him in the face, immediately tearing open the side of his head and prompting blood to gush from a new cut as he staggered to the side.

Well, fuck you, then.

Jack regained his balance as fast as he could, pulling out the double-barrel to hold it at waist height, before spinning on his heels and bringing both shells to bear on his attacker.

The wounded Green Heart clone was still operational, and not going down without a fight.

As Jack let loose a wall of buckshot, the clone dipped to the side, a few pellets striking its abdomen but with no effect. It immediately swept the spear behind it, twirling it into a position where it could be used to stab Jack in the gut.

He dropped the double barrel as she thrust the weapon at him, flicking out his bayonet.

As the bladed spear flew towards him, he delivered a backhand to the shaft, knocking it out of the way. Before the clone could realize what was going on, Jack punched the knife straight into its face, between the left eye and bridge of the nose. There was resistance as the blade went in, but it stopped halfway.

Jack needed to be sure.

He reached up with both hands, grabbed the sides of the Green Heart's head, and raised his knee as he pulled the hilt of the knife right onto his knee-pad. The hammer-like action had the effect he'd desired; the blade went all the way into the robot's head, with the hilt getting stuck almost a quarter of the way in, too.

No way he was getting that knife back in time to use it. He'd have to carry on.

At this point, the crowd had steadily begun to thin out.

Two Black Hearts, all the Green Hearts, all the White Hearts, and two Purple Hearts were now destroyed.

There still remained a Purple and Black, the monsters, and the Cyber-Dragon.

Speaking of which, where was that dragon?

Jack turned around, just in time to see the Cyber-Dragon begin charging straight through the crowd of monsters. The lesser creatures let out howls and roars as their giant master completely flattened them, crushing them beneath its' massive, tree-like feet.

The monsters in the circle began to scatter, and Jack dived to the side, getting the RPD as he commando-rolled back to a stable position. Where he'd been a moment before, the dragon blasted through with the force of a runaway freight train, its giant feet smashing apart the ground as it went. Jack stood up to his full height as the creature carried on, giving the briefest attention to a panicking Horsebird so that he could kick it in the arse, knock it on its face, then rip out most of its spine by pulling off its tail before shooting it in the back of the head.

In the short wait for the Cyber-Dragon to halt itself, Jack raised the RPD and began jogging backwards once more, blasting away at the crowd of monsters as he had done before. The monsters, however, were undeterred; They clambered over the bodies of their dead pack-mates, and charged right towards Jack. One of the larger Fenrirs - the one that Jack had hit with a chainsaw - made a powerful leap towards him.

Unlike before, it ignored the hailstorm of 7.62, and knocked him over, trying to pin him down. With the force of the tackle, the RPD flew from Jack's hands, and he was immediately put on the defensive, the giant mechanical wolf's teeth gnashing at him and going for his throat.

"SHIT!" Jack yelled. It took all of his strength just to keep the creature away from him, his hand pushing the wolf's slathering jaws as hard as it could away from him. Second by second, the monster was getting closer, and he could hear the other monsters beginning to circle, all of them in the same state of mind as the Fenrir in that they didn't care whether they died, anymore.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The teeth were getting closer. And the claws were starting to hurt his chest.

What could he use? He had no grenades, no...

Wait.

Gritting his teeth to get ready for the inevitable wrist pain, he whipped out the Desert Eagle, and jammed it right into the abdomen of the wolf on top of him.

Then, wincing in preparation for the recoil, he pulled the trigger.

The back of the creature exploded outwards, prompting it to arc its back as it howled in pain. Jack was quick to take advantage of it loosening its grip; He raised his legs to his chest and pushed both boots into the Fenrir's wounded stomach, throwing it backwards. As his legs were in the air, Jack put his hands on the floor behind his head, and shifted his momentum to flip himself over.

His feet went down on the ground.

Adrenaline was pumping harder than ever.

Not even skipping a beat, he whipped out the suppressed MAC-10 he'd 'borrowed' from the bathroom gangster, levelling it with the Fenrir that was still mid-flight and lighting it up with sub-sonic ammunition. The gun rattled away with a raspy wheeze, nowhere near as loud as the gunfire from an unsuppressed weapon, but at this distance did just the same amount of damage as its non-silenced counterparts.

The hail of 9mm bullets spattered against the metallic framework of the wolf, denting, bending, snapping, and penetrating the creature's mechanical organs.

By the time it had collided with its comrades, the light in its eyes had gone out and it lay still, twithing and smoking.

Jack swept the MAC-10 under his right armpit, and released a stream of bullets that came out in a suppressed burp. Behind him, a Bit drone was destroyed, raked with gunfire like a soldier leaving the trench.

Ahead of him, one of the M3 drones had locked itself in place and begun charging its main cannon. Jack flipped the Desert Eagle up to absorb recoil with his hip and landed a pair of shots on the machine's 'head'. The device drifted backwards in receipt of the heavy bullets, shaking itself side to side as if stunned.

As its optical sensors returned to Jack, he had begun pelting it with MAC-10 rounds, diving from the circle and continuing his run. The low-power munitions began displaying their falloff range as he created distance between him and the group, but nevertheless the remaining monsters - two more Fenrirs, a Dogoo, and a couple of Spider Tanks - were flinching on registry of the shots.

So it wasn't entirely pointless, but nowhere near enough.

Just as he was about to swap the MAC-10 for the second Desert Eagle, a fierce battle cry rang out to his right. Just in time, he whipped out the chainsaw, barely parrying the swing from the Black Heart clone that had suddenly come to strike him.

Unlike before, the clone stepped back to avoid Jack's countersweep with the chainsaw, before returning with yet another spinning swing towards the gunman. Jack ducked below it, and converted the movement to go for an upwards swing at the Black Heart. As the saw came up, the clone's blade dropped down, clashing with the rotating teeth of his logging appliance. The copy of Black Heart didn't relent, delivering a knee to Jack's ribs, grabbing his collar, and spinning him around to be thrown away.

The clone was remarkably strong; Its throw sent him flying. Jack grit his teeth, and forced the saw into the ground, gripping the trigger as tightly as he could so that the pull of the blade would tug the ground and slow him down. As he slid, he began pumping his legs, barely getting grip on the wrecked dirt floor but finally getting just enough that he could charge back at the clone.

"MY BLOOD IS UP!" he roared, immediately opening with an upwards saw swing. The clone barely sidestepped it, tapping the saw away with the rear of its blade and quickly spinning itself into a diagonal downwards swing towards his shoulder.

With barely a second to spare, Jack raised his arm as a shield, batting the sword away as he had done on the first day he was in Gamindustri. As his grip returned to the chainsaw's handle, he delivered a quick boot to the clone's stomach, sending it staggering backwards...

...only for it to be caught in the path of one of the Cyber-Dragon's missiles, immediately smashing apart the left side of its body and sending it tumbling away. Jack fired a single pistol shot at the monster, not deterring it from pumping rockets towards him, prompting him to start running. Behind him, the ground crashed loudly as the creature's gargantuan legs smashed the floor apart with each step.

God, Jack wanted that rocket launcher back.

Just as he turned his head to check where the monster was, there was a crack, a loud explosion, his entire body jolting, and the feeling of being thrown forwards, letting out a yell of despair. Seconds later, he slammed into the rocky ground, sliding along the dirt on his face.

All sounds were muffled slightly.

What the Hell happened?

Groaning, he clenched his fist and steadily picked himself up. Briefly, he felt something scraping against his spine.

Shrapnel.

Great.

He must've been hit with a rocket.

Wincing as he reached behind him, he could feel a good amount of the steel shards dug into his skin.

But it couldn't have been a direct hit; He was fairly certain that would've blasted him apart.

He muttered more expletives, shook his head to clear the ringing, and turned to look back at the dragon.

The Cyber-Dragon had had its' arm turned into a pile of scrap metal, the creature roaring loudly as it toppled sideways, landing on its' mangled right claw. Leading to where it had originally been standing was a long trail of smoke, which led up to...

"_Mr. Loonygun!_"

Shit...he knew that pet name!

"Fuck! IF?!" he asked, suddenly beginning to look around. His eyes quickly fell on the small woman as she suddenly lunged towards him, grabbing him in a hug. Ignoring his leg pain, he crouched down to reciprocate, gripping her tightly. He was fairly certain she was crying, but whatever. He was probably crying, too. "_Thank fuck. Thank fuck, you're alright, Miss IF._" The hug lasted for a few seconds, before Jack heard a loud metallic clank.

He knew that noise.

As fast as he could, he swept IF behind him, and pulled out the Mossberg, levelling it towards the red-uniformed man walking towards them, who was calmly loading an RPG rocket into his empty launcher. Jack grit his teeth, keeping the gun aimed at the man. In retaliation, the approaching threat - whose upper face was obscured by an oversized M4 helmet - snarled at him.

"Don't even think about it, son," he growled, a gruff American accent clearly audible with each word he spoke. "I kicked enough asses of bastards like you back in Poland." Jack was about to respond with one of his devastating Fuck Your Country's History™ jokes, but IF suddenly looped in front of him and tugged his shotgun down.

"Mr. Loonygun, calm it!" she said sternly. Jack blinked in surprise as she gestured to the man. "This is Mr. Doe. He helped me get out of that nightmare."

Jack glanced at the man's legs, ignoring the sound of the Cyber-Dragon's mechanical body struggling to reactivate behind him. Doe's legs were covered in dark soot stains and shrapnel tears. His boots were also full of shrapnel. Jack narrowed his eyes, and looked up at Mr. Doe's face. The man snorted briefly, grimacing at the sight of him.

He knew _exactly_ who this guy was.

"...aren't you that bloke who jumped the barracks in Siberia using an RPG-7?" he asked. Doe nodded, prompting Jack to stick out his lower lip and raise his brows appreciatively. "Fair enough. You were the one who shot the Cyber-Dragon, right?"

"I am the _best_ at leading targets with missiles," Doe replied calmly, putting the back end of the launcher onto the floor and leaning on the forward grip, tipping his helmet up slightly. "I just needed bait."

"And I was the bait?"

"Mmhmm."

Jack turned to look back at the Cyber-Dragon. The creature was, once more, lying on the ground, twitching.

"Doubt it's dead..." he muttered, scratching his chin, before turning back to Doe. "...but nice shootin', Soldier." Once more, Doe nodded and turned back to observe the surrounding area. The monsters had taken to crawling about at a distance, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The remaining Purple Heart clone had gone...somewhere.

That gave Jack the chance to get his shit together.

He turned to his brunette lady friend. "Listen, Miss IF-"

"Just call me Iffy, if you want," she cut in. "No need for 'Miss'."

"Fine. Iffy. You got a phone, right?"

She shook her head, surprising Jack.

"Not even one?"

"Not even a single one."

"Where are they?"

"That guy with the crappy accent at the top of the tower took everyone's phone if they were a hostage."

"Wait, you were a hostage? One of Kashuba's?"

"If that's his name, then yeah. A bunch of his guys came over, grabbing everyone they could, then taking them to the top floor."

"They got everyone?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, as many as we could," Doe cut in. Jack glanced at him.

"I take it you were with Kashuba."

"I _was_," he replied, "Until he made me shoot down a civilian helicopter. I don't hurt civvies. Not in my soldiering guide to soldierliness. I know everything he ordered, up to sending me out with Iffy to shoot down choppers." Jack nodded understandingly, scratching his chin.

"Right...so what's his game?"

"Seems to me like his game with this is to cover up what he's got planned."

Jack tilted his head. "This is just a show?" IF quickly raised a finger.

"Actually, this is all part of a piece of fan fiction, and despite the gap in updates, this has all taken place within the space of about five or ten minutes, but go on."

Jack sighed, and ignored her conspiracy theories.

"Well, he originally intended to steal the master codes to the national treasuries. Then when he got up there, he found out that there was a meeting going on with a number of important businessmen and company CEOs. To Kashuba, that's just more money."

"And he wants their cash?" Jack guessed. Doe nodded.

"Spot on. His plan is to take their stored credits and flood the market with it. It'll destabilize Gamindustri's economy, devalue credits."

"The Depression Era all over again..." Jack mused.

Doe nodded.

"You know how else that reference works?" he asked. Jack shook his head. IF had no idea what was going on. "In a time of economic failure, people turn to extremists, as opposed to their current government, if they feel nothing is being done. Kashuba's already met a few political officials to formulate a new party; The Multi-Theologists, or MTs, for short. Their views include overthrowing and executing the CPUs, destroying the 'sharicite', and eliminating 'undesirables'."

Jack's eyes went wide.

"So he's not a Commie..."

"That's right," Doe finished. "That Ivan's a fucking Nazi."

Jack shook his head in disbelief, adjusting his shotgun. "But just us three alone have no chance of headin' up there and takin' him down." Doe brushed the back of his helmet.

"You're right about that one, trooper." The man pointed to the top of the building. "Right at the top, Kashuba's got thirty hostages. He senses foul play, he won't even hesitate to shoot one. And not only that, but one of those hostages is a CPU Candidate."

Jack's heart dropped.

"Oh, shit. They've got Nepgear."

"If Kashuba sees us coming, there's a good chance he'll just kill her. And that is _not_ something we want to happen." Doe eyed Jack up and down. "Judging by your kit, I've got my doubts that you don't follow the Frenchman's guidelines to suits, balaclavas, and espionage."

"Same could be said about you," Jack retorted. "We can't get up there. We're both too loud."

"I'd be useless, too," IF added. "That asshole's got my weapons." The three of them looked at each other, then to the top of the building.

"Must be some way..." Jack muttered, shaking his head. "So what were they doing with the hostages? Just meat shields?" Doe shook his head, and sighed.

"Meat shields, punching bags, and in the case of the women..." Jack's face took on a look of disgust.

"I think I get the picture." He glanced at IF. "They didn't touch you, did they?" The woman shook her head.

"No...but I think they were saying they wanted to 'take Cave for a spin'."

Jack's teeth cracked from the force of him gritting them in rage.

If he wasn't pissed before, he sure as fuck was, now.

He immediately drew up plans on how he was going to torture Kashuba.

Just as they were about to begin approaching the building, the trio heard the sound of people cheering around the edge of the crater.

Confused, they looked up, and relaxed a bit, smiling.

The CPUs had arrived.

Just as they touched down, their Share energy being nearby was all that the Cyber-Dragon's converter needed for one last round.


	35. Ascending the Tower

As soon as the CPUs touched down, Jack began jogging towards them, Doe and IF in tow. The sound of the nearby crowd cheering for their Goddesses and the police sirens mixing together drowned out most of the other noises in the area, including the gentle hum of the Cyberdragon's self-repair unit steadily dragging the monster back together. Black Heart was quick to touch down in front of Jack, her face going almost bone white as she saw the state of him.

"Holy shit!" she cried, covering her mouth. "What the Hell happened to you, Lovebun?!"

Jack grinned, a large amount of blood clearly visible on his tattered face. His clothes were torn, he was saturated in gore, and yet despite the fact he was in worse condition than Ground Zero, he seemed like he felt fine. Carefully, she reached a hand out to try and wipe some of the blood off.

"I made a friend, and we took the short way down."

Black Heart gave him a blank, exasperated look, saying nothing, then removing her hand. It now had blood on it, but whatever.

Finally, IF sighed.

"He got into a fight with a twenty foot tall toaster with a cannon arm, then fell from the 100th floor," she clarified. Black Heart raised a brow, slowly nodding. Then, she turned to the man in the red uniform with the oversized helmet, who was currently in the process of picking his nose and idly glancing about.

He _really_ did not seem fussed about who was in front of him.

He probably didn't care.

Black Heart glanced at the massive weapon resting on his shoulder.

He'd do.

"OK, Lovebun," she began, looking back towards Jack. "Tell us what's happened."

"I wished rape upon Cave, went to the bog, killed a Mexican, murdered a bunch of fuckos with guns, died, came back, then found out it was all orchestrated by some Russian fucker with a stupid name."

The CPUs gave him a blank stare, then slowly looked towards Doe.

"...that...that's accurate," he confirmed, raising a finger with a bogey still on it. Black Heart sighed, and turned to the other three.

"So, what do we do?" she asked. Green Heart shrugged.

"I suppose we _could_ fly up the tower and eliminate the hostage-takers," she suggested, scratching her chin.

"You could," Jack cut in, "If you want them to start killin' hostages, then go ahead." Purple Heart's face darkened.

"Ah, so they're _that_ kind of terror group."

"Seems like it," Jack nodded, looking the four Goddesses over. "They've got hostages, guns, and the same level of training I have."

White Heart frowned. "Then they're-?"

"Absolutely. Bunch of the guys I was sent here with." Purple Heart nodded slowly.

"So who's he?" she asked, looking over at Doe. The man was looking rather bored, sliding the sights of his RPG up and down in a way that suggested 'bemusement' rather than 'zeroing'. IF, Jack, and the CPUs stared at him for a second.

"Well..." Jack began, glancing at IF. The smaller woman shook her head, and he knew what she was saying.

He really shouldn't mention he was with those guys.

Jack spent a few seconds trying to figure out how he could explain this new person.

Finally, he spoke. "...he's...the guy...that...uh..."

There were definitely eyes looking at him. Shit.

"...uses an RPG."

He got some deadpan stares from everyone gathered. Except Doe, who was still fiddling with the sight. Black Heart sighed, and rubbed her forehead.

"Fine..." she muttered, before exhaling and straightening up. "So what's the plan?" Jack frowned, and rubbed his chin, folding his free arm across his chest.

"Well...for one thing, a direct assault's a generally shitty idea," he began. "They've too many hostages, and these are the people who don't value the lives of innocent people. Plus, a good few of those hostages are friends of ours." White Heart stuck her lower lip out, and gestured to him.

"Then we just kill them before they take out too many hostages. Duh."

Jack shook his head, glaring at her.

"We are _NOT_ takin' that risk, you understand me?" he snapped. "They've got Cave up there with them, and I'm not gonna risk those bastards killin' her because we were fuckin' idiots about this." Purple Heart flashed a grin at the outburst, folding her arms.

"Mmm, seems like someone wants to be Miss Cave's knight in shining armour..." she chuckled. Some of the others laughed.

"I'm not a knight, I'm not wearin' shinin' armour, and I fuckin' mutilated about five guys with a chainsaw an hour ago, so get fucked."

Black Heart began subtly wiping her hand on her bodysuit to try removing the blood, especially now that she knew where it came from, and that it was not Jack's.

"I'd say rocket jump up there," Doe cut in, drawing everyone's attention, "But I doubt any of you have done that." Jack pouted slightly at the thought.

"Might have to give it a go, sometime. Sounds like an Unreal experience." IF smiled at him.

"Nice reference to the Unreal Engine, Loondumb."

"IF?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Aww."

"Anyway, we could only go in quiet. I got separated from James, Luke, and Josh, so we're down four guys, and we haven't got any air support because Chaz has decided to disappear." He paused, then looked at Doe. "You didn't shoot him down, did you?"

The man just shrugged. "I wanted to. But he was dodging missiles anyway, and I thought it would be unfair to fire an RPG at him."

Jack nodded. "Top geezer, you probably saved his life. But I've no idea where he's gone. I can't hear the chopper."

"Not like we need it," Black Heart replied calmly, resting the back of her sword on her shoulder. "If we sent up a chopper, they'd hear it, and start killing hostages."

"Good point," IF sighed, scratching her head. "I mean, there _were_ skylights on top of the building. If we could get someone up there silently, we might be able to use them as a spy, of sorts."

Doe tilted his head. "But nobody here is French enough for that."

Green Heart, not knowing the reference, stroked her chin, and looked up at the massive tower before her. No real way in...too many windows. "I suppose..."

Her eyes drifted over the structure of the building . A lot of windows...

...support beams.

She snapped her fingers.

"Those support beams," she said quickly, looking at everyone else. "They look like they'd be large enough to conceal our ascent up the side of the tower." The rest of the group shot her quizzical looks, before looking at the building.

Jack grinned as he realized she had a point. The thick, metal support beams up the side of the building looked like they'd be big enough to provide visual and physical cover against anyone in the tower. "There's also the benefit of it going up the side of the whole building," he added, "No blind spots, either."

"I could try rocket-jumping up there," Doe suggested. "It'd weaken the structure, but I'm sure I could make it the whole way." IF frowned.

"But that would get their attention, right?"

"Who cares?" Doe shrugged. "Far as I know, Kashuba thinks I'm still on his side. He wouldn't think anything of it." Jack slowly nodded at the comment, continuing to stroke his chin.

"That's...a _point_."

Everyone else looked at him.

"Far as they know, Doe ain't defected," he said, gesturing to the uniformed man. "He could probably just take IF back up there, say he got rid of Chaz's bird, and get into prime position to take out Kashuba." He hesitated. "Kashuba didn't seem any harder than the rest of us durin' trainin', did he?"

Doe shook his head. "No tougher than any of the rest of us."

"I think Mr. Lovebun is testament to how tough most of you are, though," Black Heart noted, eyeing him over worriedly. "It's a wonder you're still alive." Jack waved a dismissive hand.

"I'm alright. I just wanna get this over with and make sure Cave's alright."

Again, Purple Heart scoffed. "And you say you don't have a thing for her..." Jack narrowed his eyes and gave a gesture as if he were winding up for a backhanded slap. The CPU recoiled slightly.

"_**THIS**_ fuckin' close, Neptune," he snapped, twitching the hand. "**THIS** close."

The Planeptune CPU nodded, and Jack returned to his idle stance.

"Right," he continued, "So we've a rough plan, then?" The rest of the group nodded.

"Doe and I get up to the top floor," IF began, "From there, we get ready to take out Kashuba."

"Once he's dead, we CPUs get the hostages out of the building by air," Green Heart added.

"And when they're clear, we re-enter and take down the remaining members," White Heart grinned.

"Sounds solid," Jack nodded. He then turned, and gestured to the building, beginning to jog towards it the rest of the group in tow. Between them and the building were the not-so-tattered remains of the...

Jack's jog broke down, and he stopped. The CPUs flew past him, completely ignoring him.

As the Goddesses approached, the Share Energy converter in the Cyber-Dragon picked up their signals, and intercepted. All the Share Energy meant for them was being absorbed by the Dragon, and it showed: All four CPUs immediately slowed, grabbing at their heads and floating backwards, crying out in pain as the creature began to steadily pick itself up.

The lights in its' body relit all across the board. Its' formerly tattered flesh suddenly began to regrow at an alarming rate, and its' skin became much thicker. The cannon began bending itself back into shape, parts appearing to replace those that Doe had wrecked with the RPG. It slammed its fists into the ground, pushing itself back to standing up.

And now, Jack noticed that it was easily three times as tall as it was before. More spikes, more claws, more teeth.

A sixty foot tall behemoth that towered over most buildings nearby.

As it stood up to its' full height, the true terror that the beast inspired became apparent as the street nearby flooded with screams, people beginning to run away once more.

Doe and Jack immediately stepped forwards, guns raised and pushing the CPUs back to a safe distance. Jack turned to face Black Heart, whose nose looked like it was bleeding. "What the fuck just happened?!" he asked, checking her face and turning it with his left hand. "Concussion? You got a headache? Dizziness?"

The response was silence; Black Heart suddenly swept back into her normal form, eyes closed.

She was unconscious. Not dead, at least.

A glance around displayed that she wasn't the only one; The other three CPUs lay in crumpled heaps, IF desperately trying to drag them away from the Cyber-Dragon.

To the front, the Cyber-Dragon looked to be inspecting itself. It raised its' gargantuan hand up, viewing it with what seemed to be wicked interest, almost as if it were pleased with what it had become. Slowly, it turned its' head down to London and Doe, baring its' teeth.

Jack grimaced.

OK, now they were _three_ times bigger than he was tall.

He kept his eyes on the dragon.

IF had been struggling with the CPUs. They needed to get out of there before anything else. Then there were still civilians running about...

"Doe," Jack began, glaring dead into the eyes of the Cyber-Dragon. "Help IF with the CPUs, and get as many civilians away from here as you can."

The soldier beside him blinked. "What?"

"You 'eard me, sunshine. Civvies and CPUs go first. Get the area cleared."

The helmeted man continued giving him a shocked look, then finally shook his head clear. "God speed, you magnificent bastard," the man said flatly, before slinging his RPG over his back and jogging over to pick up Blanc.

Jack, meanwhile, stared the Dragon down.

"I've sent you to Hell twice now, you ugly fuck," he snarled. "And you still. Won't. Die."

The creature crouched slightly, as if it were listening to his words. As he spoke, he was certain its' eyes narrowed.

So it was intelligent.

Once more, Jack pulled out his Mossberg, and let it rest on his shoulder. The creature showed no visible reaction to the weapon's appearance. Perhaps it was showing some form of respect by not attacking him. Perhaps it knew that such a weapon had no chance of hurting him.

Either way, the more seconds he distracted it, the more people could run.

"I kill you this time, and you'd damn-well better stay dead. I know I'm not one to talk about stayin' dead, but you've come back twice, now, you Phoenix bastard. Any luck, this is your last life."

The creature stood up straight, and backed away slightly, dust and stones showering Jack as the gargantuan monster moved. It made its' way to the other side of the arena, and lit up the massive cannon that it had for an arm. Jack squinted slightly, the orange glow of the cannon illuminating the entire appendage.

Oh, shite, did it have miniguns, now?

Jack grit his teeth, and slammed the shotgun into his waiting hand.

In response, the monster leaned down, and released the single most ear-splittingly loud noise Jack had ever heard in his life. There was intense heat from the Dragon's mouth, and inside the almost cavern-like maw, he could see the blue glow of the beast's power core. Now that it had regenerated, the thing looked like it had gone fucking nuclear.

Sparks flew from its' mouth, and the creature straightened up, pointing the cannon directly at him.

Jack had to dive to the left much faster than the previous two fights, as what he'd originally been expecting to be a steady rocket barrage turned out to be at least _four_ miniguns lighting up the area he'd been in, tearing apart the floor of the crater as a deafening ballistic scream shattered the air.

Yeah, fuck that, the bastard had miniguns.

Sod the original plan.

He needed bigger guns.

_**Much**_ bigger guns.

Immediately, Jack got back to his feet, beginning to sprint towards the Planeptune tower as fast as his legs could carry him. In the spur of the moment, he decided the best plan would be to retrieve the rocket launcher and minigun. And, if he was honest with himself, that was probably the _best_ plan, because like _**fuck**_ if he was gonna be fighting that shitty Godzilla knock-off with a couple of shotguns and machine guns.

The ground was detonating in a trail behind his feet, barely a few feet ahead of the spray of thousands of bullets, and he kept pumping his legs. There wasn't even time to turn and fire off any shots of his own.

He just had to fucking _**run**_.

He leapt up the edge of the crater, stumbling slightly as he approached the doors to the tower.

They were revolving towards him.

Fuck.

As swiftly as he could, the deafening screech of the miniguns shredding apart the air all around him, he pulled out one of the Desert Eagles and released two bullets into the glass doors that he was fast approaching. The bullets caused huge cracks to appear in the glass, meaning all he had to do was brace his shoulder and slam through it.

His mind briefly flickered in the thought that the glass might not break.

He almost missed a step.

Barely regaining balance, he was just able to charge (literally) headfirst into the glass door, smashing it apart on impact and tripping over the frame.

He let out a yell of shock as he landed amongst the glass shards, sliding along the tiled floor of the lobby.

Behind him, he could hear the Cyber-Dragon let out another roar, mixed with the sounds of some upstairs windows smashing.

Jack caught his breath back, and staggered to his feet, plucking some of the glass from himself and looking around.

He couldn't stay there long. That thing outside needed to die.

It was then that his pocket buzzed.

...he hadn't dropped his phone...?

Whatever.

He reached into his pocket, and withdrew the mobile.

_**IF**_

"Iffy!" he said upon opening it.

He then realized his mistake.

"_Aha! Hello again, fuckstick!_" Kashuba leered from the other end of the line. Jack rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. "_You thought was your little brown-hair girlfriend? No! Was me: SERGEI!_"

"Oh Christ, it's this fuckin' benderboy again."

"_Be of get fucked, Queen fucker. So, I trust you met Crazy Ivan, da?_"

"Who?"

"_Crazy Ivan! You know: Big scary dragon motherfucker!_"

"Yeah, I've met the bastard. Killed it twice."

"_Twice is clearly not enough._"

"Get fucked."

"_Anyway, was just calling to tell you YES, I know that your precious little cinnamon roll goddesses have shown up, and YES, I saw Mr. Doe talking to you. I will kill him as soon as I can._"

Jack snorted air through his nostrils.

Shit. There goes the plan.

"_Also, I know you are in building._"

"Of course I'm in the buildin', you vodka-swiggin' shitbag!" Jack snapped. "How else'm I meant to put my size eleven into your arse?!"

On the other end of the phone, Kashuba shrugged, idly twirling one of the .500 revolvers from a nearby arms crate around his finger. The phone was pressed between his shoulder and cheek, and his free hand was dedicated to resting behind his head, watching the terrified looks of his hostages with a bored look on his face.

"_OK, is nice, London, but I have you know that it is __**I**__ who will be doing the inserting of an eleven inch dick into __**your**__ asshole._"

The quiet murmurings of hostages around the room suddenly turned to looks of absolute disgust. A few of Kashuba's men stopped and looked at him as well.

Jack stood downstairs, silently staring at his phone.

"Mate..." he began, blinking a few times. "Did you just say you're gonna try and fuck me in the arse?"

Kashuba tilted his head confusedly, sitting up slightly. "_Well...you said you want to put size eleven in my ass."_ There was a brief pause as Jack looked for a way up. "_You are referring to big English dick, no?_"

Jack groaned, and began running towards a staircase. "Size eleven's a fuckin' SHOE SIZE, you dickhead!"

Kashuba glared at his phone.

"_As soon as you get up here, get ready for SERIOUS assfucking, you smug bitch._"

Jack stopped, and looked up the tower's atrium before he headed up.

Up above, he could hear a small army's-worth of boots rushing down to take him on.

Beyond them, the amount of smoke emanating from floor 100 obscured his view up to the top of the tower.

The Cyber-Dragon was clearly trying to get into the building somehow, windows smashing on the floors above.

Jack grinned, and looked at the phone.

"Start lubin' yourself up, then, fuckboy, or I'm goin' in dry."

He snapped the device shut, and slung it into his pocket again, pulling out the .44 revolver and inspecting the available rounds as he made his way up the stairs. Above, the sound of hundreds of footsteps running downstairs became much louder, and the yelling of orders became more understandable as he neared about the thirtieth floor. A few words stuck out; "Defend", "Choke point", and "Killbox".

"Setting up shop, eh?" Jack murmured, keeping his eyes open across the atrium to see if anyone was over there, civilian or not. He stopped, and looked over the railings. About a twenty five storey drop...

...but there _was_ a service vent.

Jack grinned, and approached the nearby vent cover. "Perhaps they won't mind if I take the side door." Sticking the revolver into his disk, Jack approached the vent, one-handedly yanked the cover off it, and popped his head inside to have a look.

It seemed like the vent started on that floor; It didn't go down at all. Instead, it went left, and began ascending the tower, seemingly around the entire building in a spiral. It was a bit dark, but then again, who was gonna attack him in a dark vent?

Jack clambered inside, and replaced the vent cover behind him. He then turned, and began to crouch-walk up the tunnel as silently as he could.

As he went, he began mulling over a new plan.

Floors above were brimming with some of the most dangerous armed terrorists in history.

The CPUs were basically out of commission so long as that fucking dragon was still about.

But why?

As soon as they'd gone near it, it was like they'd just...zonked out. It hadn't done that to him: He'd killed it twice.

He frowned, peering out of one of the vent covers he passed by. How was he different to the CPUs? There must have been some reason why it didn't affect him.

Perhaps it was because he was from Earth?

It seemed logical...

...wait.

IF was fine.

So it couldn't be just him.

He thought back to everything that the CPUs had said to him.

What was it that gave them strength...?

Then it clicked.

'Shares'.

The belief of people in them.

Maybe, because everyone feared that dragon, the CPUs weren't getting shares?

Then again, the CPUs had flown over to Planeptune just fine whilst the dragon was still alive the second and first time.

That, and it had gotten stronger when the CPUs arrived.

Like, _**much**_ stronger.

The understanding of situation struck Jack almost as hard as one of the low-slung support beams in the vent hit his face.

It was _**stealing**_ shares. It had some way of intercepting them from the CPUs, and using them for itself.

He needed to get word out. As the vent flattened itself out and went completely straight ahead for a good hundred meters or so, a set of green lights up ahead presumably indicated a powerbox or something.

Perfect: He could get the building power down and take them by surprise in the dark.

Immediately, he pulled his phone out, and was just about to try and contact the Police Commissioner through the emergency phone, when he put the device to his ear and noticed something.

Buzzing.

The speakers on the device were gently buzzing.

It would only do that if it had particularly bad signal...

...or if it was picking up encrypted frequencies.

He stopped dead.

That meant they were potentially communicating on hidden channels.

Slowly, he reached into his bag, and pulled out the headset he was issued for the inter-dimensional radio, connecting it to the phone and putting them onto the one ear.

The buzzing was quietly going in his ear, now. He took a couple of steps backwards, and it quietened down. A few steps forward, and it loudened slightly.

Ahead, the green lights hadn't changed. And it seemed as if the closer he got to them, the more interference his phone would get.

Jack narrowed his eyes.

Smart move: Put a signal jammer in the vents. After all, who would look in there?

Jack began to advance once more, slowly approaching the jammer as quietly as possible due to the risk of there being a microphone or explosive trap to detect and deter anyone going for it.

As he got closer, the jamming signal got louder and louder.

He was about thirty meters from the green lights when the earpiece suddenly began releasing an intense shrieking. Jack gasped in pain at the receipt of the noise, but barely had time to react.

Ahead of him, the green 'jammer' lights had suddenly become nearly spotlight bright, and begun to rapidly approach him. The light they sent out illuminated the nearly pitch-black vent, and Jack could barely make out the shape of an armoured man sprinting towards him with a baton in his hand.

"SHIT!" Jack cried, the earpiece letting out a piercing shriek as the man came closer. He pulled out his AK as fast as he could, levelling at his hip-height and beginning to unload rounds towards the man, backpedalling as fast as he could as the bullets soared forwards. Many of them missed; Those that did hit immediately pinged off the attacker's body armour, either stopping dead or ricocheting into the sides of the ventilation shaft.

The man ahead didn't relent, either: His charge was emphasized by the increasingly deafening screech of Jack's earpiece, steadily getting louder as the man caught up to him.

Jack remembered a sharp corner.

He was running out of space to run backwards.

The green lights of the man's goggles were so bright, so blinding, he could almost see the craziness behind the lenses.

Jack stumbled on a small dent in the shaft, his balance coming down, and the man in front of him breaking into a finishing move; A flying kick.

Then, a sudden burst of heat and light and pressure, knocking Jack flat onto his back and sending the other man flying over his head, crying out through a voice-filtered mask. Jack was flecked with shrapnel as the explosion washed over him, and for a few seconds, he lay still.

Behind him, the charging man hit the back end of the vent, slamming into the metalwork as the whole steel tube tilted jarringly downwards. Light flooded Jack's vision as the opening in the tube allowed it to vanquish the darkened steel coffin.

Jack could see the world steadily beginning to point in a bad way: Forty floors to the ground.

The contents of the vent began to slide down the floor, beginning to tinkle out of the vent in a cascade of AK shell casings, metal fragments, and flattened bullets.

Jack immediately span onto his side and pressed the flats of his boots against the vent edges, pushing himself against the other side of the vent. What little momentum he had instantly stopped.

Good. Crisis averted.

He let out a series of gasping breaths, attempting to get his breathing rhythm set straight. For the briefest moment, he had concerns that someone, somewhere, was gonna be making a motherfucking Jojo's reference out of his troubles, but the concerns disappeared as he realized the most important thing.

He had no idea if the other guy was actually dead or not.

After wiping his brow, he fixed his hair, and set about making the slow chimney-style climb up the collapsed vent.

One foot up, both arms up, then pull himself upwards. Secure himself. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The whole ordeal took about three and a half minutes just to get up about six meters of ventilation as it swung backwards and forwards in the breeze. It wasn't made any easier by the muffled sound of quad-miniguns outside, the resounding boom of the Cyber-Dragon's gargantuan feet hitting the ground, or the sound of people yelling on floors outside the vent. Just the footsteps alone nearly caused him to lose grip a few times.

Jack lingered on that thought as he reached the top of the collapsed vent and dragged himself up with a groan.

If it wasn't the kung-fu guy in the vents that set off the C4, then that meant...

The sound of the yelling outside the vent suddenly became more clear.

Oh, shit, they knew where he was.

Just as he dragged himself back up to the more stable part of the vent, the air inside the building was shattered as a hundred or so men emptied guns into the empty shaft behind him. Jack grunted in pain as a few bullets pinged into him, but decided to lie low and identify what they had as best as he could.

Some submachine guns...

...light machine guns...or assault rifles.

Shotguns, definitely.

A bullet suddenly zipped straight past his head, barely gashing the gaunt of his cheek and edge of his eyebrow. He winced in pain, and shifted back around the corner of the vent.

He rubbed his face.

A lot of blood.

"And at least one sniper..." he muttered, peeking his head around the corner. In front of him was a five meter run up, and a rather large gap; Easily hitting twenty meters with the other broken vent hanging down.

No chance of him jumping it.

Jack scratched his head, and looked at the gap. The vent on the other side _did_ continue upwards. It'd mean he wasn't having to get his arse kicked by hundreds of men of equal standing to him on the way up the stairs.

Although, it _did_ mean he would have to get the shit kicked out of him by the hundreds waiting at the other end of the vent now that they knew where he was.

Again, he grimaced.

The gunfire died down...but then another noise caught his attention.

To his right, sat against the wall with a massive piece of shrapnel rammed through his head, was the kung fu guy.

"Well, at least I know he's dead," Jack whistled, crouching over to him and beginning to pull things from his body. As he set about removing the insanely durable body armour from the man's corpse, Jack pulled out his phone (_surprisingly, no longer buzzing_) and called MAGES.. He planted the phone between his ear and shoulder, then began strapping on the newly acquired chestplate.

The answer was immediate. "_Mr. London!_" came the voice of his favourite scientist (_next to Bill Nye_).

"MAGES.," he began, "You guys doin' alright?"

"_Um, y-yes,_" stammered the woman. "_What in the Goddesses' names is that thing out there?!_"

"Remember that dragon?" Jack grunted, tugging on one of the shin guards he pried from the dead assassin.

"_From floor one hundred? Yes._"

"We both fell out of the window. Landed down there, killed him again, but then the CPUs arrived, and it revived itself. Much stronger than before."

"_Oh, crap, I should have known!_" MAGES. snapped. Jack tilted his head, looking at the man's MP5, which had been pinned to the wall by a piece of steel.

"What's up? You know what it's doin'?"

"_It's intercepting the Share energy of the CPUs!_"

Jack grinned.

"Fuckin' called it."

"_What?_"

"Nothin'. Anyway, how do we stop it?"

"_Right now, we can't do __**anything**__. Until we can get the CPUs away from it, that thing is going to keep repairing itself. Unfortunately, it knows that too. It's going to be chasing the CPUs down._"

Jack nearly dropped the phone. It wouldn't matter, since he'd probably pull a fresh one out somehow, but still.

"F-Fuck...IF!" he cried.

"_What about her?_" MAGES. asked. "_Is she with you?_"

"No, and that's the problem!" Jack finished strapping on the armour, putting his bandoliers and jacket back on over the top of it. "She was helping the CPUs when I left her!"

"_Don't tell me she took them into a crowd._"

"Oh, shit."

"_DAMMIT!_" MAGES. yelled. "_We'll...dammit, we'll need to deal with this later! What are you doing right now?_" Jack grabbed hold of the dead body, hoisting it up to standing so that he could inspect it. Once the mask was pulled off...

...goddamn.

Looked kinda like him.

"_London!_" MAGES. said again. "_Where are you?_"

Jack smirked, looked at the gap, then the body, then himself.

He also had the radio from this guy...

"On my way to the top, again. Oh, and if you see a body falling, don't panic."

"_A body? Wha-?_"

Jack hung up the phone, and set about donning the mask and goggles that the guy was wearing.

He put on the mouth cover. "_**This thing filterin'?**_" he muttered. To his satisfaction, his voice was remarkably similar to the man formerly wearing the outfit.

He grinned, and grabbed the dead body again, looking at the gap.

He had exactly _**one**_ shot at this working.

Here was hoping his GCSE in Drama was good enough for the ruse he was about to pull.


	36. Caving In

The most prominent sound in the ears of those held hostage at the very top of the Planeptune tower was now that of the footsteps of the Cyber-Dragon. None of them could see it, but they knew it was there, unfortunately. A sixty-foot tall, quad-minigun and plasma cannon-waving behemoth, which was currently making its' mark on the side of the Planeptune market tower in an attempt to get hold of a certain boorish Brit, then remove his limbs.

But, of course, that was outside.

Their _real_ problem was the armed maniac sitting in the office chair at the end of the table, idly spinning a gigantic revolver around his finger, and his lackeys that were currently pacing the room and causing problems for hostages.

'Sir Ghee Cashbar', as they'd found out he was called, had stormed into that room at least three hours ago with three other men: A man in red with a helmet, who had recently left with one of the hostages to do a 'patrol'; A man wearing full black with armour and strange goggles that jammed all the phone signals, who had disappeared about two hours into the attack to 'jump Loondumb'; And finally, an incredibly tall man in a green suit of heavy metal armour, bristling with some gigantic guns. His face had been obscured by his helmet, so nobody knew exactly what he looked like, and he didn't say that much, but he had only just left the room to guard the 240th floor, apparently because "_He's definitely on his way up._"

Since then, a couple more of Sir Ghee's men had come into the room and set up.

So, now the room had exactly thirty three occupants.

That is, to say, twenty three hostages, and ten of Sir Ghee's soldiers.

The hostages themselves were an incredibly mixed bunch, but all hostages nonetheless.

Huddled in the back corner of the room was a group of nine businessmen and businesswomen. They'd been in aa boardroom meeting when it was so rudely interrupted by a hostage situation. One of them, Mickey Belch, was a contender for Leanbox's Presidential election, which would put him just below Chika Hakozaki in terms of power. Another was Eyebee Hem, a very influential inventor who had made her fortune by working with computers. Both of them were now terrified for their lives.

Lined up along the windows were ten completely random men and women. None of them even had the slightest clue as to what was going on, since they'd simply been grabbed and dragged to the top of the tower when it all kicked off.

Next to Sir Ghee's chair was Tekken. She was found at the R-18 Island merchandise store with a blindfold and handcuffs on. She also offered no resistance, and seemed to be enjoying herself, so Sir Ghee dragged her with him.

Trying to conceal herself behind a potted plant in the corner was Compa. So far, it was somehow working, but she was certain they knew she was somewhere in the room, since they didn't see her dart behind there. So, she simply had to sit there and try not to cry.

Trying to keep low-key was Nepgear. She'd been messing with some electrical equipment that she'd been meaning to buy when a burly man with a big green helmet and really weird accent grabbed her and used a rope to climb up to the top floor of the building. He also had a big gun and tripod strapped to his back, so she didn't really want to complain. But at this point, the best she could do was sit and hope they didn't want to hurt her.

And finally, sat defensively next to Nepgear, covered in bruises, was Cave. It had taken fifteen men to take her down after she managed to successfully take out nine, and she was only still alive after Sir Ghee himself chose not to blow her brains out whilst she was down, ordering his men to grab her and bring her upstairs so they had "_something to amuse themselves with_". Unfortunately for them, every attempt to drag her away from Nepgear had resulted in the man responsible being bitten, punched, kicked, or otherwise severely injured in their gentleman's wedding vegetables.

But unfortunately for Cave, her resistance had made them start being more forceful in response.

Nepgear never thought she would see a woman who was stronger than her sister. But Miss Cave had been punched, kicked, hit with guns, had her clothes slashed to reveal her underwear, slapped, strangled, had her face smacked against the table, her hair tugged and cut, her arm dislocated and popped back into place, and just beaten so mercilessly...

...and all she was responding with was a serious expression and the single phrase: "_Try harder, you cowards._"

Even after all that, Cave had still made it her duty to defend Nepgear. She'd pushed the Candidate behind her, and taken every swing meant for her. And right now, she was barely conscious, bleeding from a number of cuts and gashes, shivering, but still, somehow, remaining on the defensive.

So far, Sir Ghee Cashbar had offered them no _real_ explanation about what he was even doing there, or what he wanted. He'd sat there, yelled at Mr. Loondumb down the phone a whole bunch, occasionally wandered the room so that he could abuse the hostages, and browsed the large crate of firearms that the men had brought with them. Right now, it seemed like his favourites were that abomination of a gun that had about seven scopes and six foregrips, and a pair of massive revolvers.

For such a well-dressed man, he was probably one of the most vile creatures that any Gamindustrian had ever known of.

Just as Cave shivered violently again, Sir Ghee groaned loudly, leaned back in the chair, and hung the revolver limply from his finger. Then, he leaned forward. "For fuck sake, stop chittering teeth!" he snapped in his strange accent. Nepgear noted it was quite similar to accent the man who grabbed her, and one that Mr. Glovebox had told her about...Rushing? Something like that.

Cave just shot him a dirty look, glaring right into his soul. Sir Ghee bared his teeth, wagging a finger at her as he pointed. "You...you, I do not like." Steadily, he stood up, and began to pace over to her, still twirling that huge handgun of his. "You are like Obama to my Putin. You see? Very different. Am surprised you are still alive, to be frank." Cave grit her teeth.

"The same could be said for you, _scum_," she snarled. Sir Ghee loomed in front of her menacingly. Then, slowly, he began to crouch to her eye level.

"What are you meaning, my little redhead?" he asked mockingly. "What, out there, in entirety of this pitiful world, could kill me, the man, myth, the legend, Sergei Kashuba?" Cave spat some blood out onto his trousers, but remarkably, the Russian held his temper.

"Well, I can think of one certain man who's on his way up here right now, and he's a better fighter than you could ever hope to be."

Kashuba immediately began laughing through his belly, throwing his head back and chortling aloud. The hostages just gave incredibly frightened looks, watching their captor break down in stitches.

Then they watched in horror as, before Cave could even react, he'd spun the revolver in his hand to grip the barrel, then swung it as hard as he could into the side of Cave's face. The woman let out a cry of pain as a glut of blood arced from her jaw, then spattering the window as she smacked face-first into the glass. Nepgear covered her mouth, recoiling in sheer terror with tears in her eyes. But she didn't dare speak, or this wretched man would strike her, too.

"_**DO NOT COMPARE ME TO YOUR PRECIOUS 'LONDON', CUNT!**_" Sergei screeched, standing up fully. He followed up by immediately reeling back and delivering a solid boot to Cave's stomach, prompting her to immediately cough up a disturbing amount of blood and wheeze loudly. She lay there in the aftermath, struggling to breathe and clutching her stomach. Kashuba didn't relent, and kicked her in the stomach again, with enough force that she was slammed back-first against the window. He then stepped forward, and continued kicking her to punctuate his sentences. "**I AM FIFTY TIMES THE MAN HE CLAIMS TO BE!** **I AM HIGHER RANK! I AM FASTER! I AM STRONGER! SMARTER! AND THERE IS NO WAY I CAN LOSE TO THAT SHITPIPE LICKING BASTARD!**"

The response from Cave with each boot was a loud grunt of pain, but she was managing to hold back any tears.

She'd become dull to the sensation of his attacks. Nothing he did was going to hurt her anymore.

Eventually, the deranged man stopped kicking her, seeing that she was no longer reacting. He bared his teeth, stood up straight, and pointed the gigantic revolver at her face as she lay down. The other hostages began screaming, but were silenced as one of Kashuba's men fired his pistol into the air. "SETTLE!" barked the helmeted man. "SETTLE, OR BE CUT DOWN!"

The cries broke down into whimpers as Kashuba levelled the handgun at Cave's head. "I have had about enough of your antics, you little bag of shit," he snarled. "You answer back, you do not respond to beating, and you do not let me fuck you like good little girly."

Kashuba grinned as he pulled the hammer back on his revolver. Cave could make out the number '500' engraved on the long barrel, glinting in the light.

Why were there so many lights?

"Hell," he chuckled. "Whether you have pulse or not does not make my dick any less hard, no?"

He shifted his shoulder and looked down the sights.

Just as he began to squeeze the trigger –

_**Bleeep.**_

"_Hey, Boss,"_ the radio standing on the table crackled. Kashuba halted, and sighed, trudging over to the radio and snatching it up. Cave weakly turned her head to look at Kashuba as Nepgear shimmied over, picking up the older woman and gently placing her head into her lap for support.

"What the fuck do you want?" he snapped. "I am in middle of obtaining fuckbuddy."

"_Well, just thought I might radio in t' let ya know that we got that sunuva bitch._"

Kashuba hesitated.

Cave's heart nearly stopped.

"Wait, you got him?" A sickening grin was creeping onto Kashuba's face.

"_Caught London snooping around where Loaker was stationed. Loaker was dead, London was taking his shit. I kicked him out an air vent, then jumped up and kicked him towards the floor so that I could get to the other side of the gap. Rest of the guys lit him up like a Geiger counter at Chernobyl. No chance he survived. London's dead."_

The spirit of every hostage in that room immediately shattered.

Cave felt herself unable to hold it back anymore: She rolled her face into Nepgear's lap, and the two women, along with some other hostages, began silently sobbing.

Kashuba's grin continued being as devilish as it was beforehand.

"Sir, you have made my cold, Russian heart very warm and fuzzy on this rather shitty evening," he chuckled. "I shall personally shake your hand!"

"_No worries, Boss: Already on the way up with his gear. He had a pretty nice jacket, I gotta hand it to him!"_

"You truly know how to make my day!" Kashuba laughed. "I look forward to pinning medal to chest!"

He released the button on his radio, the sickening beep cutting through the air of the room like a knife. The man stood, placed his palms against his face, and exhaled, smiling. "Well..." he beamed, turning his head to the other soldiers in the room. They all looked equally pleased. "I suppose even bigger celebration is in order for later, da?" The gathered soldiers let out a whoop, hi-fiving.

The hostages were completely speechless.

This was it.

They were going to die at the hands of these nutjobs.

Just as Cave was considering giving in to her urges to just give up and die, a hand swept down and gripped her heavily bruised arm and began dragging her across the room, causing her to yelp in pain. She looked up, wincing, to see Kashuba dragging her along. She barely had the strength to resist, and instead just moaned in pain, tears streaming down her face.

"I think I have torture you enough," he said flatly, taking her to the doorway. As Nepgear attempted to go after her, she was immediately halted by a rifle barrel being pressed into her back, then a hand grabbing her shoulder and forcing her back to the ground.

Kashuba pressed a button beside the door, prompting an electronic beep with the loud hiss of the door sliding open. Then, after kicking Cave in the back of the knees, threw her out into the corridor. "Get fuck out. You can think about your dead friend on way down. Maybe you will shoot self, no?" Kashuba's grin dropped. "Now get fuck away, bitch."

Cave couldn't even find the strength to try and go back in as she lay on the cold floor. Feebly, she extended a hand to try and get inside, just so that she could keep protecting the CPU Candidate...

...but the door slamming shut in front of her gave her the answer she didn't want.

She was alone.

Shakily, she picked herself up slightly to look at herself.

Her clothes were completely ruined; One of Kashuba's men had put a cut down the front to reveal her lacy black underwear, but then proceeded to punch her repeatedly.

One of her twintails had been cut off, leaving a stump of badly sliced hair that stuck up in tufts. The other side of her hair had been burned severely; She'd barely been able to put it out before it reached her head.

She couldn't really open her left eye anymore. Though, it might have been open. She didn't know. Maybe she was blind in that eye, now?

Her entire body was a mass of greys and reds, bruises and cuts all along her skin and staining her white outfit with her blood.

Her mouth was bleeding, just like her nose.

She was in absolute agony.

And now, not only did she have the knowledge that they were more than likely about to rape Nepgear, but they'd also killed London by kicking him downwards 100 floors.

"Oh, G-Goddesses..." she whimpered, pulling herself to her feet. It was devastatingly painful, with her only pausing to cry out in pain. "Loondumb...I'm...I'm sorry...for leaving..."

Cave took a step forward, lurching away towards the corridor she had been dragged down in the first place. Immediately upon placing weight on her left foot, her entire leg gave way, dropping her straight to the floor again. She grunted on impact with the ground.

For a few minutes, she lay there, shivering on the carpet with tears soaking into the material. The entire building was practically being shaken to pieces by the dragon outside, but she didn't care anymore.

She'd _failed_.

She never failed.

And the one day she does, the person she's meant to be looking after dies horribly, and Planeptune's CPU Candidate is trapped in a room full of people who she saw were all too prone to engage in horrific acts of sexual and physical assault.

She was shamed.

There was no chance she could ever go back to Leanbox.

Maybe she could just take her Cyanide pill from her tooth?

She moved her tongue to the spot where the tooth was.

Then felt her heart sink.

Of course...how could she be so forgetful?

That was one of the teeth they'd knocked out of her mouth by hitting her.

So she couldn't even kill herself.

She thought for a moment.

If she stayed where she was, the likelihood that they would shame her further with rape was increased.

Sniffing, and feebly reaching forwards, Cave began to crawl, each pull screaming at her to stop using a voice of pure agony.

"Forgive me...Nepgear..."

_**Meanwhile, on the ground floor...**_

"What the metric fuck is this?" Luke cried as the small group stepped outside. They were almost flattened a few moments before as a massive foot slammed down in front of them, practically detonating the ground nearby and forcing the three men to shove MAGES. and Falcom to the ground for their protection. A few seconds later, and they were pulling themselves to their feet. "What the _**fuck**_?!" Luke screamed again, carrying out a quick check of his gear as he pulled MAGES. Upright.

"Blast..." the magician groaned, adjusting her hat and grimacing. "It's worse than I feared would happen." Josh stepped forward, pistol and sword in his hands and glaring at the small woman.

"Listen, Mages –"

"It's pronounced MAGES.."

"Whatever. You helped invent it, right?"

"Just the anti-gravity generator, unfortunately," she replied, brushing dust from herself. "I knew it would have a wide array of uses from its conception; It was Avenir who decided to utilize it in their biomechanics experiments."

"OK, so does that thing have a weakness?"

MAGES. briefly stroked her chin. Finally, she looked up at the blonde swordsman.

"Ballistic weapons, explosives, or a considerable weight should destroy the generator in its' chest."

Josh nodded. "So just blow it to Hell?"

"Sounds like fun," Luke shrugged, racking the charging handle of his L85 and looking over to where the beast was in the process of pummelling the Planeptune tower. Glass was raining down like a storm of shards, which meant approaching from below would be completely idiotic unless you were a fan of facial scars. "It's big enough that we could rappel up it, although..."

"I dunno, Mr. Soldier Guy," Falcom interjected, scratching her head. "I've done enough monster hunting to know that an Ancient Dragon secretes a natural poison from part of its body. Touch it, and you're kinda screwed." Luke frowned, watching the creature roar and put its entire arm through the building.

"Wouldn't have said that would be the biggest problem with trying to climb a pissed-off Godzilla reject, but that just adds to the list..." he muttered. Then, he turned to James, who was lighting up a cigarette. "Mate, are you being serious?"

James nodded, the cigarette gripped between his teeth as he fished in his chest pouches for his lighter. "C'n barely focus if 've n't h'd a sm'ke," came the muffled reply, cigarette bobbing with his slight jaw movements. "L'ke t' see y' g' tw' h'rs with't a f'g."

Luke shook his head, and sighed. "Josh, what do we do, now?"

The blonde man said nothing, and watched as a rain of screaming people fell from a few floors up.

"Well, we're bloody well not going back in there, that's for sure," he said finally, turning to the group. "At this stage, the best I can suggest is that we find the CPUs."

Just then, James stopped moving, and slowly raised his hat brow, a look of sheer shock written all over his face.

"Ah, Josh?"

"What?"

"I found the CPUs."

Josh shot him an incredulous look, then everyone followed his gaze, their looks of confusion soon changing to a look of terror.

There, strapped to the Cyber-Dragon's left arm cannon, were the CPUs. They were tied to the creature with a strange magnetic field. Their bodies were limp, tied to the steel frame like decorative ragdolls, and the monster just continued to punch the building whilst keeping the cannon free.

Perhaps it didn't want them dead, for some reason.

None of them were conscious...or perhaps alive.

"Oh, _**shit**_," Josh murmured, scratching his head and stepping back. "We might be a bit fucked on this one, guys."

Luke was in the same boat. "Fuck me...what do we do about THAT?!" He snapped his glare to MAGES., who looked just as terrified as the others. "What the fuck was the point in giving it that?!"

"Don't pin the blame on me!" she snapped. "That must be one of Avenir's inventions! But how did it even get the CPUs in the first place?!"

"They probably showed up to protect the tower," James cut in, stepping forward and racking the bolt on his rifle as he scanned the weapon for weaknesses. "Josh, you're still good at catchin' people, right?"

"James, whatever you're planning, I already hate it," Josh replied, raising a finger.

James shrugged, and raised his gun. Immediately, Falcom ran forward, raising her hands. "H-Hey! Mr. James! Don't shoot the CPUs!"

"Wasn't my plan," he retorted, lifting his hand to adjust the scope dials. "Think I can see a small outlet that's sendin' out the purple stuff that's holdin' them in place."

MAGES. groaned loudly, and slapped him on the arm with her staff. The man grunted angrily. What the fuck are you doin', MAGES.?" he snapped. The woman placed a hand on her hip, and shook her head as Josh and Luke discussed potential plans.

"That outlet seems more like it would _deflect_ your bullet," she said frustratedly. "It's where all the energy is coming from. I would assume there's some kind of internal core that produces the energy, but the armour on that thing is completely insane. Your rifle will never penetrate it."

James frowned, and lowered his AWP, looking down at the woman. "Right, then..." he sighed. "What's _your_ plan, then?"

"If we apply enough ordnance to the arm, we might have a chance of opening a place to shoot the internal mechanisms. The energy output would have to be in a glass tube to prevent conduction, so it'd be a-"

"Big purple glowin' weakspot," the sniper grinned evilly, looking back up at the Cyber-Dragon as it continued punching the building. "My favourite."

"The issue is," Falcom said suddenly, "How do you blow off the armour without hurting the Goddesses?"

James thought for a moment, scratching his chin with a gloved hand. Finally, he looked at Josh. "Oi, prick," he called over. Josh's eyerolling was almost audible.

"What, James?"

"You've still got that hand grenade, haven't you?"

The man nodded, rustled through his bag for a moment, and then produced the small green ball.

"Nice. So we have one grenade."

Luke raised a hand.

"Actually, mate, we've got a few more toys." His hand fell slightly to gesture to the bandolier of 40mm grenades that were strapped across his chest, and then to the grenade launcher on his L85.

James' grin widened.

"Boys...I've got a plan."

MAGES. and Falcom suddenly felt very concerned as the three men huddled together and began grinning as James explained something.

_**Meanwhile, across the whole city...**_

"Um..."

Chaz had his hands on his hips as he eyed up the Challenger. It was parked over four spaces in a small impound lot in a local police station. The Officer next to him had her hands on her belt loops, and was eyeing it up, too.

"So, it's yours?" she asked, almost confused. Chaz sighed, and nodded. "Heck of a thing to privately own, let alone get impounded." She looked up and smiled at him. "You're a real silly guy, sir."

"Yeeeeah...someone borrowed it for a few days."

The Officer sucked air through her teeth. "Well, whoever it was had made a point of flattening a couple of Priuses on the way into that parking lot. Damage to property, and stuff."

Chaz refrained from saying anything about it being justified, and silently nodded.

"So, can I have it back?" he asked, looking down at the Officer.

"Sure, you can," she shrugged calmly. "It'll be back in your hands within about three days."

Chaz tensed.

"Ahhhhh...haha. Well, you see, I sort of need it," he explained, rubbing his helmet. "Like...now."

The small woman just stared blankly at his visor.

"It's really urgent," he continued.

She frowned, and folded her arms. "There's nothing you couldn't use public transport for," she said firmly. "Besides, why do you need a tank so urgently?"

Chaz's mind flashed with the memories of London being charged out of a window by the Cyber-Dragon, and the part where he bailed out of his chopper due to the excessive damage. Then, the part where he found a massive set of cracks in the road where the tank had smashed the concrete, and then the part where he had to figure out which station it had been taken to.

All in all, about half an hour's work or something.

"...shopping."

"Shopping?"

"Uh...yeah..." Chaz winced behind his visor.

Now THAT was a stupid thing to say.

"Why are you going shopping in a tank?" the Officer asked.

"Well...look at me. I do look like someone who owns a tank."

The woman raised a brow, and eyed him over. She couldn't see his face, but his body was covered in some kind of mix between a jumpsuit and space-age looking body armour. He kinda looked like one of the Eden Fall Shock Troopers from the _Ring_ franchise from Leanbox.

"You do kinda look like a soldier..." she muttered, scratching her chin.

"Come on," Chaz pleaded. "A pretty girl like you must know when a bloke needs his tank, right?"

Caught off-guard by the 'pretty' compliment, the Officer jumped slightly, and felt her face going slightly red. "O-Oh...u-um..."

She smiled.

"...o-of course I do. Let me go get you those release papers, handsome."

She flashed him a wink, and walked out of the impound lot, considerably more posterior sway in her walk than there had been a moment before.

As the door closed behind her, Chaz was left standing awkwardly, looking at the twenty tonne armoured beast that had a tiny wheel clamp strapped to one of the treads, and wondering "How does that even stop the tank?"

Whatever.

"Well, that was a fucking stupid distraction," he quipped, glancing back at the door.

He just needed to sign those release forms, get the tank, then go save London.

But God, if that woman couldn't come back any sooner.

_**Meanwhile, on floor 239...**_

The completely non-withheld screaming that Cave's muscles were doing had only just reached that point where she could ignore the pain enough to stand up and walk...or stagger.

As she'd crawled – or, more accurately, fallen – floor after floor down the stairs, she'd contemplated a plan to get out, but it was seeming more distant and impossible every time she thought it over.

Originally, she started by thinking of just walking down the stairs.

Obviously, there was no way she could do that in her state.

Then, it went to 'slide down the windows on the side'.

It was then considered that the monster would kill her...but that might be preferable.

Last idea she'd had was just letting the soldiers kick the shit out of her.

But considering that the big man in armour just cast her a flat glare as she limped past, they probably didn't even care enough to do that.

So, instead, with no actual plan left in her already swirling mind that was quite close to just blue-screening, Cave mindlessly trudged through the building, clutching weakly at whichever wound was the worst feeling.

Her thoughts were completely spinning, and she could barely open her remaining eye that still worked.

_Go down floor._

_Meet Loondumb._

_Loondumb is dead._

_But I can go meet Loondumb and it'll all be fine._

_He's dead._

_But Loondumb can fix it. He always fixes things._

_If there was one big thing she likes about him, it's that he can fix things. He always has a way._

_He's dead._

_But you can't kill Loondumb._

_**He's dead.**_

Finally, she halted in her tracks as she went down a long, empty service corridor. At the other end, there were two men, both wearing bizarre costumes.

Were they Loondumb's friends?

No, they were probably terrorists.

They turned and looked at her, one of them pulling out a metal baton.

So she was going to die here.

Cave offered the two men no true reception as they approached, grinning all the while. "Well, lookie here, Hot!" the first man laughed, dressed in some strange attire that made him look like some kind of shounen protagonist, "Got us somethin' to fuck with..." He reached forward with his baton, trying to pull down her bra, before he was swatted away by Cave.

"J-Just..." she mumbled. "Let...me go home..."

"What, and miss the chance to have a go with a body like that?" snarled the other man, who looked to be some kind of black ninja. "I'd have to pay good money or be _paid_ good money to get a girl like you to spend the night." He stepped forward, pushing her backwards. Cave, in her weakened state, could barely offer resistance, staggering back and crashing into the concrete wall with a grunt of pain as the man pinned her arms up. "Don't you be squirming, now," he laughed, "You're just gonna make things harder."

Cave's eyes pricked with tears as the second man in the strange clothes began exploring her injured body with his hands. She didn't have the power nor the will to stop him, and instead just yelped as he groped her breast, the two leering thugs breaking out into laughter as Cave squirmed.

"What, you don't like it?" snorted the bizarrely dressed man, as his hand lazily slid over her face. "You're gonna learn to like it, you little bitch."

She barely had the energy to spit at him.

Instead, she vomited, prompting the two men to burst out in jeering laughter as she was released to drop to her hands and knees. Just as it began frothing from her mouth, a sudden force slammed into the side of her head, and she coughed violently, falling onto her side and into a puddle of her own vomit.

Cave's head was spinning.

The vomit was filled with red bubbles.

She was definitely going to die.

Just as she felt something press on top of her and begin feverishly pulling at her skirt, frisking for her underwear, there came an almighty bang, and she was pushed to the side as whoever was straddling her went flying to the side with a yell of surprise.

As her world turned to the side, she saw that one of the metal vents on the wall was gone; In its place was a man clad in black armour with night vision goggles, in a post-kick stance. Turning her head, she saw that the vent had slammed hard enough into her attempted rapist that it had shattered his entire arm, the smashed limb now flailing like a tentacle as the man screamed, scrambling away from the vent opening.

The other man, who was wearing the strange black one-piece was quick to get in the process of moving towards the vent with a confidence she hadn't seen in a while. Almost like he was prepared for any of the new attacker's moves, he raised his hands and opened with a swift right hook.

What he hadn't prepared for was the vent man to grab the incoming fist with own right hand and slam his left palm into his enemy's face, spinning him slightly. With that brief moment of momentum, the vent man twisted his attacker's arm behind his back, kicked the back of his knees to drop him down, then give a brutal tug, instantly dislocating the thug's arm with a sickening pop.

Without hesitation, Cave grabbed what little strength she had and began to crawl away. Her knees barely held her up, and she nearly fell into the steaming pile of messy vomit, but regardless of the face she'd nearly been raped and felt like she'd be better off dead, she'd be _alive_, internal terrorist feuds be damned.

She couldn't even see the end of the tunnel. She didn't know what was at the end of it.

Was she going the right way?

She had no idea?

Behind her, the sounds of men screaming became very apparent. The sounds of punching now seemed to be mixed with a strange metallic crack, but she didn't want to look.

Not now, not ever, never again, she'd seen too much death at the nightclub, just no more –

Cave instantly halted as she heard an absolutely gut wrenching wet crack, followed by silence.

Her limbs went weak.

Whoever had just won...

...she'd just lost.

The silence that reigned over the concrete tunnel was excruciating, especially when it was mixed with the low sounds of the monster attacking the Planeptune tower outside.

Then, finally shattering the noise, there suddenly came that horrifying _clump_ of heavy boots beginning to approach.

Tears formed in her eyes.

So this was it.

She'd spent her last moments fleeing, crying, vomiting, and pissing herself, knowing that her brief happiness that her rapists had been stopped was instantly replaced with total fear.

The boots were getting closer.

Perhaps she had been too rude to some people. Especially Loondumb.

Goddesses, she wished she could have turned back time right then.

The boots came up beside her.

Her breathing was completely erratic.

A pair of massive hands immediately swept her up.

She didn't even have the energy to scream.

Cave looked up at the man; It was the same man who had jumped out of the vent, wearing heavy black body armour, a familiar green jacket, and a face completely obscured by some kind of mask.

This man had saved her...but he was still one of the terrorists.

After a moment of looking down both ends of the corridor, the large man saw something, and began walking towards it, cradling Cave in his arms like he was some kind of hero with his prize maiden. As he walked, he didn't even look down at her.

Was he just going to return her to Mr. Kashuba?

She shivered.

After about half a minute's walk, the man stopped, crouched, and gently sat her down next to a wall. The massive bruises on her back and lower stomach screamed in protest, but she didn't care. She didn't even have the energy to do so.

She could barely muster the strength to look at what he was doing; The mysterious man was inspecting the lock on a first aid cabinet.

Finally, he spoke.

"_**Damned sturdy...**_" he muttered. The voice came through in a strange filter; She had no idea who this man was, but he seemed to be trying to access the first aid cabinet.

After a moment's deliberation, he reached into the holster strapped to his leg, withdrew a large handgun, and pointed it at the lock. Shielding his face with a hand, he pulled the trigger, nearly deafening Cave as a loud bang ripped through the tunnel.

She winced as her ears rang, but then the sound of something metal hitting the floor rang out.

The lock was off.

For a few seconds, she shook her head.

She couldn't pass out now.

Grimacing at the thought of dying right there, she was shaken back to reality as her forehead was grabbed and her mouth opened with one large hand, followed by a liquid sloshing into her mouth.

It tasted like...

...strawberry?

A healing potion? But why?

As she had gotten used to over the years, her body was wracked briefly by agony as her wounds closed and bruises healed. She didn't feel light headed anymore, and her missing teeth had definitely grown back.

That, and her cracked ribs were better.

She was healed.

She could take this guy.

Just as she prepared to deliver the crotch-kick of the fucking century, she hesitated as he stood up, pulling his mask off. "_**Alright, now that that's taken care of...**_" he began, the lower mouthpiece sliding over his jaw.

Cave froze.

She would recognise that terrible facial hair and horrible cheek scarring anywhere.

Her eyes began filling with tears as the mask lifted over the man's face.

As the balaclava went limp and was hooked onto the man's belt, she didn't even need to hesitate.

She stood immediately, lunged forward, and wrapped her arms around the man, which was immediately reciprocated. She couldn't even hear herself crying as her face buried itself into the much larger torso she'd attached herself to.

After a moment, she pulled away, snivelling. "Y-You..."

Jack smiled down at her.

He'd been crying, too.

"Yeah," he sniffed, crouching down to her height and holding her shoulders gently. "I came back, and I've one Hell of an apology for earlier planned when we get outta this."

The two embraced again.

"I wouldn't have forgotten about you, Cave," he said quietly, stroking the back of her hair. "On the way up here, I've been shot, stabbed, slashed, and died, but there's no way in Hell I'd just leave you behind."

"I thought you were dead..." Cave whispered. "A man came on the radio and said that he'd killed you." Jack paused, and pulled out of the hug.

"Eh?"

"It went to Mr. Kashuba's radio."

Jack paused, then started laughing.

"Seems like a GCSE in actin' is all I needed!" he chortled. "That prick thinks I'm out of the picture?"

Cave finally understood.

"You...faked your death?"

"Faked harder than JFK's assassination," Jack nodded. "He thinks I'm dead? We've got the upper hand."

Jack frowned, standing up and withdrawing his shotgun from his disc. Then, he looked down at Cave.

"Listen, if what I said earlier is still stickin' with you, you're welcome to get out of here," he said finally. "Because I don't want one of the only things that matters in my life bein' killed. But if you're still up for it, and ready to forgive me for bein' a prick, then we can go finish this, _together_." There was a pause. "What do you say, Cave?"

She hesitated.

She'd nearly died in that tower, protecting the CPU Candidate for Planeptune.

She'd taken a lifetime of abuse in the space of a few hours.

Was she in a place to back out, at this point?

Cave sighed, and closed her eyes. "Very well, Mr. Loondumb," she said finally. "I will go with you."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. Let's-"

"**On** one condition," she interrupted. Jack froze.

"...and that is?"

"If I survive this quite frankly suicidal mission, I get to live with you in that house you wanted to buy."

Jack paused.

How did she know about that plan?

More importantly...

"Don't you have your own house?" he asked.

"I have slept in the Basilicom barracks for the past eight years," she said calmly. "Considering the magnitude of what you're asking me to participate in, I think it's only fitting that it be worth more than a simple massage."

Jack tilted his head. "Well, uh, OK, I'd be fine with that. I'd just need to pay a bit extra to get you a bed."

As the two began walking down the hallway, Cave shrugged.

"Keep saving me like this, and I'll gladly share yours."

"_**C-Cave?!**_"


	37. Dragon Hunters

"_**Oi! Cunt!**_"

A few moments after the strange voice that it had originally planned to ignore, something cracked into the back of the Cyber-Dragon's head and exploded violently, slamming it face-first into the steel girder that was near its head whilst it rummaged through the building. The metal clashed violently with the monster's head, but barely hurt it. The building, meanwhile, lost a good part of a steel floor beam.

Nothing major, however; The building was, quite frankly, absolutely _**colossal**_,__with 250 floors and a base that was nearly a mile wide. It was designed to withstand a full-blown assault from the troops of Planeptune's enemies, which made it nearly indestructible without the use of several tonnes of explosive in a few dozen very specific spots.

The dragon was barely up to about the thirtieth or fortieth floor.

Still gigantic, still nigh unstoppable, but just not enough to completely destroy the tower without a serious onslaught.

It had been in the process of trying to find as many human soldiers as possible and get revenge on them for trying to tame it earlier when the attack and shout came, so it was actually not too surprised.

More offended, than anything else.

Thus, rather than get incredibly angry, the Cyber-Dragon turned to see what had been so rude to it, a superior lifeform.

Standing in the middle of the wrecked street below, out in the open, was a single human with a rifle. He was in the process of dumping a small object from the side of the rifle, but still glaring at the giant.

Could this be that human that it had done glorious battle with before?

The Cyber-Dragon bared teeth and zoomed in, almost prepared to advance, but then stopped.

On closer inspection, this wasn't the Dragon Hunter.

It was a tall, black-haired man with a few scars, and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth. He seemed to be dressed in desert-coloured camouflage clothing and equipment, and the rifle in his hands was an odd black-and-green colour combination. Even more bizarre was the large shell it was loading into the second barrel of the gun, and the rather brave expression on his face as he did so.

The dragon cocked its' head slightly, trying to figure out the tactical merits of wearing sand camouflage in the middle of a shiny silver city, when the man spoke again.

"_**Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, you giant cunt!**_" he yelled, swiping the rifle to the right and closing the breech of the gun beneath the gun as he jabbed a finger forwards towards the dragon. "_**The fuck do you think you're playin' at, smashin' apart a buildin' for no reason?**_"

The dragon turned its' body to face the man. He completely paled in a size comparison, but honestly, the man didn't seem to care.

The Cyberdragon bared its' teeth, but then shielded its' face with its' right claw as there came the sound of a loud _**ploop**_, followed by a good half of the dragon's face exploding. The armoured scales peeled off, revealing the metal beneath, and also revealing that it did _**not**_ like being shot in the face with a grenade launcher.

Within the seconds of recovery, the Cyberdragon leaned forward and let out a roar that shattered windows all around the area, beginning to advance on the man.

Luke stared at it, and began running away. He grabbed the button for his radio, and switched on his earpiece. "James! I've pissed it off!" he said quickly, "What now?!"

The earpiece buzzed in response. "_That wasn't so hard,_" James' calm voice responded, "_You're good at pissin' people off. Apparently it extends to eighty foot tall demon things._"

"JAMES, WHAT DO I DO NOW?!" Luke yelled.

"_Uhhh..._" There came a brief hesitation. "_OK...yeah...right. I got your route planned. Get it to chase you past the Harmod's department shop. Josh'll take over from there. All you need to do is shoot it and try not to hit the CPUs._" There was a brief pause. "_Oh. Looks like Harmod's is renowned for its' fish and chips. Could probably go there once this is over._"

Luke grunted as he slid under the tail of a wrecked helicopter, immediately getting his footing and continuing to sprint. "Yeah, yeah, sounds fuckin' great!" he snapped, veering behind cover as a minigun burst tore the ground apart to his side. "WHY DID I HAVE TO RUN FUCKIN' DISTRACTION?!"

"_Because you're obnoxious_," James replied.

"_Because you're obnoxious,_" Josh confirmed, tuning into the radio frequency.

"Where're the girls?!" Luke snapped. He snapped his arm upwards to shield his neck as another burst of gunfire caused the floor to explode.

"_Had to knock MAGES. out because she wouldn't go to the evac,_" Josh replied calmly. "_Falcom carried her away. As far as __**we're**__ concerned, they're safe._" Another radio pause. "_James, you're not wrong, I just tried some of the Harmod's cod in batter that someone left behind on a table in their restaurant. Oh my __**word**__, it's absolutely delightful._"

"Josh, if you don't do your bit, I'm gonna fuckin' die!" Luke cried. His eyes narrowed; The streets were completely empty, save for a massive gridlock of abandoned vehicles and a few wrecked things. The evacuation process was incredibly fast.

That meant Luke was basically just sprinting as fast as he could down the gaps in the empty cars, avoiding the devastating bursts of minigun-fire as he went, and just hoping that this all wasn't some elaborate scheme to kill him off.

Up ahead, he could see it; The towering department store of Harmod's, which was probably only a few floors shorter than the Cyberdragon. Gritting his teeth, Luke used every ounce of his battlefield training to vault a bench with his gun raised, then get very close to the department store, before turning to fire another grenade at the incoming beast. It roared, practically swatting the projectile away with a wild right armed swing, and flattening cars beneath its' colossal feet.

Luke, in the process of reloading, backpedalled behind the building, and looked up just in time to see the giant claw of the creature grab the corner of the department store, smashing a number of the windows. He had no idea where to go as the monster's massive head peered around the corner to see him.

"JOSH! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" he screamed, hipfiring his L85 wildly at the Cyberdragon.

"_**Right here**_!" came Josh's sudden voice through his earpiece. A window up above suddenly shattered, catching Luke's attention just in time to see the lightly-armoured form of Josh diving out of a window with his sword drawn, before he issued a two-handed slash to the dragon's eye and slammed the sword into the creature's metal cannon to stop himself from falling.

The results were immediate; The monster screeched in pain, stumbling back. As it did, Luke took the chance to release another 40mm grenade into the glowing chest motor, staggering it further.

Josh, meanwhile, had gotten a grip on one of the cannon vents, pulled out his handgun, and started dumping the magazine into it.

However, every shot landed on the steel saw the damage nearly instantly twisting back into shape. Josh grit his teeth.

"The armour's too strong!" he yelled. "I'm gonna frag him!"

Luke, still trying to load another grenade _and_ magazine, dived behind a truck for cover, just as a burst of aimless minigun rounds shredded the floor he'd just been standing on. "FUCKIN' DO IT, THEN!" he snapped.

Josh grit his teeth, and cast a brief glance to the CPUs; They'd reverted to their normal forms, quite clearly due to the lack of Shares reaching them, and none of them were conscious, restrained to the metal cannon by the unusual purple energy.

"James!" Josh yelled, tabbing his radio. "You ready?!"

There was no immediate response.

"Shit, I hope you are!" he grunted, before grabbing the grenade from his belt, pulling the pin, dropping the lever, and using as much force as he could possibly muster to slam the explosive between a gap in the joint, wedging it between a few servos of the elbow.

Then, as the dragon prepared to swat at him, he pushed with his feet, withdrawing his sword, and threw himself off the mechanical arm.

The fall was pretty hard; He fell for about thirty feet, and landed on the top of a large truck that was parked nearby, grunting in pain as he hit the roof, but seconds later rolled off as a shower of shrapnel began.

The deafening boom of the hand grenade was considerably more powerful than Luke's 40mm grenades, especially when the dragon let loose an almighty roar of anger as the protective plates around its' cannon completely shattered and flew off. Thankfully, the CPUs hadn't been in the blast range, instead getting their hair ruffled a bit, but the grenade hadn't been enough to knock out the protective field.

Luke grimaced as the creature roared, stepped back, and used its' claw to begin trying to hammer the metalwork back into place. "Jesus Christ, that thing's still movin'!" he yelled, snapping off another grenade shot that smashed away some scales on the creature's abdomen. It barely staggered, ignoring the assault in favour of hammering at its' cannon to desperately get it fixed.

Luke didn't understand why it was focusing on that over the pummeling of grenades it was receiving, but then he remembered what James' plan entailed.

"James," he said quickly. "I thought you said you were gonna do somethin'...oh, about NOW?!"

There was a moment of silence.

"James, we need you to do your part!" Josh snapped, picking himself up and staggering over to Luke. "Where the fuck are you?!"

The dragon spat out something, then turned its' head towards the two men, baring teeth and raising its' cannon. The two men pressed their radio buttons simultaneously.

"_**FUCKING NOW, JAMES! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!**_"

After a few seconds, the radio channel bleeped through the headsets of both men.

"_Right where I need to be._"

A moment later, there came a sudden, brilliant purple light, followed by the entire ground shaking as the Cyberdragon dropped to its' knees, flailing in rage. The ragged hole left by the grenade suddenly spewed forth a brilliant spray of glowing purple energy, shooting out flames like those from the back of a jet engine.. Merely seconds passed before the distant crack of a gunshot rang out, echoing through the air but being drowned out by the monster roaring in agony.

As the ground shook, the giant beast taking a knee and clutching its' now limp cannon arm, James' voice crackled over the radio.

"_I take it I got him?_"

Luke chuckled slightly, switching on his microphone.

"Yeah."

"_How'd I do, distance-wise_?"

Luke thought for a moment. There were about ten seconds between the impact of the shot and him hearing the sound, so...wait, carry the two...

"I'm guessin' about five miles."

"_Five miles. Not bad._"

"You just put that record-holdin' Lance Corporal to shame!" Luke grinned. Just as he was about to open fire again, he noticed something.

The restraining energy around the CPUs had halted.

They were lying on the ground. Still unconscious, but no longer attached to the Cyber Dragon.

Now was their chance.

He snapped his gaze over to Josh, who seemed to have noticed roughly the same thing. "JOSH! CPUS! NOW!"

The blonde's face set into a look of zealous determination, narrowing his eyes and immediately breaking into a sprint. He vaulted a sports car that had been halted nearby, shielding his face from the glare of the glowing purple flames that billowed from the dragon's arm as he went into a running crouch behind some cars.

Ahead of him, he could see Lady Noire and Lady Blanc. Lady Vert's gloves could just be made out through the smoke, and Lady Neptune was _just_ visible in the reflection from a car bumper. None of them were conscious, but Josh just knew that the dragon was keeping its' eye on them.

Josh turned, halting next to a car bonnet, then switched on his radio. "Luke," he whispered. "Turn it away from me. Get him looking at you."

He didn't even need the radio to know that Luke was probably sighing angrily right about then. The dragon was still hissing and snapping at the damage to its' arm; Blistering flames poured from a hole, and its' sources of power were now sprawled on the ground.

"_You really are tryin' to get me killed, aren't you?_" muttered the squaddie. The end of his sentence was punctuated by the sound of a _plop_ down the street, followed by a whistle, and the flash of a 40mm explosive slamming into the top of the Cyber-Dragon's head. The giant creature roared angrily, and immediately looked to the right. Luke was doing his usual, and was lighting up another cigarette whilst dropping the spent grenade case.

"_**DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT ME, DID YOU, YOU UGLY MUNTER?!**_" screamed the Irishman, before he immediately ran towards a service ladder he'd noticed down an alleyway, turning only momentarily to launch yet another grenade at the dragon.

This time, the explosion tore off its' left pectoral plate, revealing the metalwork and glowing lights beneath.

And, this time, with the damage done, the dragon was _really_ pissed.

It stood up, immediately forgetting to grab the CPUs, and instead turning its' attention to finding and killing that bomb-throwing son of a bitch. The towering colossus raised to its' full height, easily passing the height of the department store that Luke was making his way up, before roaring and reeling its' right fist back.

Then, it held it there.

Waiting.

Josh, meanwhile, hadn't noticed: He was busy grabbing as many of the small women as he could; He had piled Lady Blanc and Lady Neptune into his arms, and started running down the street.

Luke was already halfway up the ladder when he paused.

"I'm not hearin' movement..." he murmured. Hesitantly, he looped his shins behind the ladder rungs, holding himself up by his knees, and slung his rifle to his hip. After a moment of looking up, and with no movement, he decided to actually make use of some of the training he was given by Captain McTavish back on Earth.

Then, he reached over to the nearby drainpipe with his knife, and began sawing at it to take a long chunk from it.

"It's up to summat..." he grumbled. He couldn't see it from where he was, but the silenced unnerved him.

As he set about breaking the long section of piping free, he switched on his radio. "James, where are you, right now?" he asked calmly.

"_Just on top of a buildin' five miles away. What's up?_"

"Yeah, I need a favour. Do you think you could, perchance, tell me what our large adversary is currently doin'?" The mocking sweetness of his tone brought a grin to Josh's face as he stealthily approached the dragon's foot to retrieve Lady Vert and Lady Noire.

"_Well, my good sir,_" James began, joining in on the posh twattery, "_The grand opponent is currently standing in a pose suggesting that he intends to throw a punch. If I were to make an assumption, it would be that he plans to sock you right and proper when you pop your dome over the top of the ladder._"

"Much appreciated, my good man," Luke nodded, smiling. He removed his helmet, and balanced it on top of the piece of piping.

Then, making sure his launcher was ready, he looked up, unhooking himself from the ladder. He was about two or three floors below the roof of the building, but still about ten stories up. A fall right then wouldn't have been good, but his permanently present parachute could save him from something like that.

Slowly but surely, he took the drainpipe with his helmet on, and slowly began raising it up the middle of the ladder. Steadily, the helmet rose up, floor by floor, until the very tip of it was _just_ visible over the edge of the roof.

Still nothing.

Luke grit his teeth, hooked his knees on the ladder again, and raised his L85 launcher to point upwards.

Then, he slightly shifted the helmet above the roof.

The gigantic fist of the Cyber-Dragon practically detonated the top two floors of the department store, blowing out all the windows and showering Luke in pieces of masonry. The building behind him suffered, too; An entire apartment exploded from the monstrous strike, creating a small hailstorm of destroyed furniture and brickwork.

Directly above, the trunk-like arm of the monster loomed over him like a bridge between the buildings. Luke's pipe snapped in half, and he watched what remained of his helmet – a single shred of MTP camouflage fabric covering – flutter down to the bottom of the alleyway.

He wiped his brow, dropping the pipe he was holding and unhooking his legs. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Up above, there was a slight rumble. The launcher stayed pointing up.

The Cyber-Dragon's leering visage appeared at the top of the building, seemingly inspecting the damage.

All it got was a face full of 40mm, slamming it square in the eye that Josh had slashed at earlier and blasting pieces of optical nerves and sensors everywhere.

The beast howled in anger, staggering backwards and clutching at the wounded eye. Cars were flattened beneath it as it stumbled, trying to hold in the countless yards of destroyed circuitry.

Luke, being a relatively smart man, decided not to hide in the building, and slid down the ladder to get back to the ground.

"_Not wrong, was I?_" James asked. Luke grunted as his feet made contact with the floor, wincing slightly as he rolled his ankle on a piece of brick.

"Not at all, James," he replied. "Cheers for the heads-up."

"_No worries. Seems like it won't make that mistake again, I'm afraid. Think you fucked its' eye up, though._"

Luke reached the corner of the building, and peered over at the monster. It was currently forming a rudimentary eye bandage out of two Planeptune flags that had been flying from some lampposts. He had absolutely no idea how something so big could be both so smart and capable of tying a knot with one claw behind its' head, but nevertheless, it was adapting.

"Yeah, I did," Luke grimaced. "Bastard's makin' himself an eyepatch, surprisingly enough."

"_Is he?_" James' voice sounded confused, before being coupled with the sound of him shouldering his rifle. There was a moment's pause. "_Well. The cheek of this motherfucker._"

"_Think you can take his other eye?_" Josh interrupted. "_All it took to get rid of the one was a sword slash and a 40mm._"

"Difficult," Luke replied. "It was hard enough gettin' close to it. No way in Hell it's fallin' for that helmet trick again, especially considerin' that I now don't have a soddin' helmet."

"_Well, we could always try and get one from some of those dead soldiers back at the tower._"

"Great idea: You run distraction, this time."

"_Point taken._"

"_Not sure if my rifle'd be enough, either,_" James noted. "_Besides, if I take a shot now, we're be drawin' him away from the tower. We need him as close to it as possible. We're already draggin' the fight towards the evacuation zone boundaries._"

Luke grimaced, and looked down the street. He could _just_ make out a number of purple tanks in the distance, forming a barricade. "Bugger. You're right."

"_CPUs are alright, though,_" Josh sighed. "_I've moved all four of them about a hundred meters away. They're groaning, but alive. That thing's still taking their Share energy, so they're out of it for this, right now._"

"Agh, crap, this isn't goin' well..." Luke muttered. He pulled the cigarette from between his lips, and exhaled an unhealthy amount of smoke for someone his age. He leaned against the wall, and knocked his unprotected head against the bricks a few times.

It hurt.

Whatever.

He could complain when he was dead.

Slipping the cigarette back between his teeth, he rummaged through his vest pouches to find his frequencies list. The small sheet of paper was in his chest pocket, completely crumpled. He squinted at it briefly, then stuffed it back into his pocket and grabbed his radio. "Right. Keep an eye on it. Gonna find out where our support is," groaned the taller soldier, before fiddling with the dial.

Once it was set, he clicked the button.

"Chaz, mind tellin' us where you've gone?"

There was silence.

Then, the sudden sound of muffled rotors came in.

"_Yeah, just had to pick the Challenger up,_" he said loudly. Luke couldn't help but smile. He'd actually forgotten that they had that old thing. "_Holy...! I can already see the bloody thing! He's fucking __**HUGE**__!_"

"_Yeah, no observational bonus for you there, Chaz!"_ Josh cut in. Luke had no idea he was on the channel. "_I don't even think the tank's shells'll be enough, at this rate!_"

"_Why not?_" Chaz asked. "_From where I am, a load of its' skin's coming off. Whatever the Hell you were using is working, and I assume it was explosives._"

"A whole fuckin' _lot_ of explosives, mind you," Luke groaned. "Besides, I'm runnin' out of forty millimeters."

"_How many'd you bring?_" Josh asked.

"Enough."

"_You just saying that because the author can't be bothered to go back and count?_"

"Well, he's made me go through about four cigarettes in five minutes, so probably."

As he listened to the dragon struggling to get its' eyepatch assembled, an unknown force made Luke absent-mindedly light another cigarette so that it was, indeed, his fourth, and the author wasn't making an error.

"_Well, what do you lot suggest?_" Chaz asked finally. "_I doubt I'll be able to get the jump on him with a tank. He'll see me coming a mile off._"

"_He hasn't spotted me,_" James noted. "_And I'm sat in some family's top floor apartment two miles away...ohhh, hold on, lads._" There was a momentary hesitation. A voice could be heard in the background, along with the clinking of china. "_Oh, why, thank you kindly, ma'am!_" The china sound continued, and James could be heard sipping something, before letting out a satisfied 'ah'. "_Lovely. Thank you very much, I appreciate that._"

Luke grimaced, glaring daggers through the radio. "You did _not_ just accept a cup of te-"

"_Goddamn right, I did._"

"You jammy bastard."

"_Hey, it cleared my head,_" retorted the Welshman. The sound of a rifle being shouldered could be heard again, followed by light chuckling. "_Speakin' of clear, I think that forty-to-the-face did more than take his eye out. Next time he turns around, look at his chest._"

Luke raised a brow, shaking his head slightly, then peered around the corner to observe the monster. It was currently facing a building, but...

He pulled out his binoculars (_which had surprisingly lasted this long_), and took a look over at one of the windows.

In the reflection, he could see clear as day: The chest of the dragon was now entirely ripped open. Where there had once been scales, there was a massive conglomeration of spinning gears, assorted biomass, and a huge, glowing crystal, all buried in its' chest cavity.

Luke went wide-eyed slightly.

"There's absolutely no possible way in Hell that that's _**not**_ a weak spot," he remarked, lowering the binoculars. "You got line of sight, James?"

"_Have I ever __**not**__?_"

"I'm lookin' at that giant fuck-off crystal. I dunno about you, but the fact it's glowin' white probably means summat'll happen if you break it."

James sucked air through his teeth, and could be heard sipping some more tea. "_I dunno, mate,_" he murmured, "_Look again. Those two things either side of it look like some kind of armoured batteries._" Luke tilted his head, and raised the binoculars again.

Whilst the dragon was _still_ trying to make an eyepatch (_It did only have one hand, after all_), it had its' arms raised up to display everything inside its' chest cavity. In this case, Luke could barely make out what James was talking about; Positioned on both sides of the large crystal, and each marked with a large lightning bolt, were two surprisingly small metal cylinders. Large cables were hooked up to the crystal. The things couldn't have been more than a few feet long, and were probably thinner than his arm, but he knew what they were immediately.

"Good point..." Luke groaned loudly, and seated himself against the brick wall. He knocked his head against the wall a few times again, sighing from exhaustion and closing his eyes. "**Fuck**, this is more complicated than I thought it'd be."

"_...maybe not._"

Luke raised a brow at Chaz's comment.

"Go on."

"_Well, it's probably the same as a lot of electrical things. Like...ah, a laptop. It serves a purpose, and it was made by a company._"

"_Where the fuck are you goin' with this, Chaz?_" James sighed.

"_I'm getting to it. You know how you can unplug a laptop from its' power source, and it'll still work if it's charged?_"

Luke went wide-eyed.

"Holy shit..."

"_I think he has a point,_" Josh confirmed. "_Even if it's predominantly mechanical, it can probably still run if you smash that core. I doubt they'd give something so strong such an obvious weak point._"

"I could try grenadin' the core, but I doubt it'd do much to the batteries. All it would do is just force us to wait out the battery life and hope it's got the power consumption of an iPhone," Luke suggested.

"_Hang on,_" James cut in. "_MAGES. said that thing steals Shares, right?_"

"_Right?_" Josh said curiously. He paused. "_Riiiight._"

Luke caught his drift fairly quickly, grinning. "We smash that crystal, and the CPUs get into the fight."

"_What do I do?_" Chaz asked. "_Air support? Drop off the Challenger?_"

Luke shook his head, standing up. "Challenger'd bring too much attention. Besides, that thing could fuck it up; We'd be too slow. If anything, we just need to distract it after the crystal's broken."

He watched as the Cyber-Dragon _finally_ finished with its' eyepatch, and began calibrating its' remaining eye using its' right hand; It moved the appendage backwards and forwards a few times, then it focused the eye accordingly.

He noticed, however, that when it focused, it took at _least_ three seconds, likely to compensate for the missing sensor and loss of depth perception. The focusing took longer the further the object was.

Immediately, Luke's brain concocted a plan.

"Lads-"

"_**You have a plan?**_" came all three voices simultaneously.

Luke grinned, flicking his cigarette away.

"You know me too well, gents. Now, listen up. Chaz, maintain speed. Hell, _increase_ it. Circle the chopper around from the East. I take it the Challenger's hangin' beneath your helicopter?"

"_Yeah._"

"Good. Josh, make sure you're ready to slap the CPUs awake."

"_Uh...OK?_" the posh man replied cautiously.

"And James..."

"_Yeah?_"

"...you know how people say that a laser pointer can show a pilot exactly where you are if you point it at their eye?"

"_Oh, I'm not likin' this._"

_**Meanwhile, inside the 240**__**th**__** floor's emergency access shaft...**_

For a ventilation system, Jack had to hand it to the architect: It went _everywhere_.

Quite frankly, it was alarming how much of the building could be accessed through these steel tunnels. Obviously, it was a bit harder for him, especially considering that he was a good head and a half taller than most – if not all - of Gamindustri's residents, meaning that what was a crouching space for them was more of a crawlspace for him.

His other concern was less from a tactical standpoint and more from an "irrational fear of advances by the opposite gender" standpoint.

Cave's little comment earlier about "happily sharing a bed with him" had caught him completely off guard. It had stunned him more than when that RPG went off nearby, or when he got the fuck beaten out of him by the Cyber-Dragon back on floor 100.

Someone actually found him _marginally_ attractive.

His brows furrowed as he took the lead through the vents, guiding his alleged bodyguard through the shafts he had memorized from the service manual he skimmed over a few floors back. His plan was to get to the floor nearest the top _(floor 249)_, then keep up the Kung Fu Cop charade until he had the prime opportunity to shatter Kashuba's goddamned skull with his fists.

At that point, he halted, and peered out of the vent nearby. "Hmm..." he murmured to himself about darkness, but then there came a gentle grunting from behind him. Suddenly, something soft clambered over him as he lay still, before lying on his back. A pair of arms began resting inbetween his shoulders. This wouldn't have bothered him so much, if his suddenly close friend wasn't breathing down his neck. "C-Cave, can you not?" he asked as politely as possible, trying not to reveal his confusion.

Cave, however, remained stoic, and was looking out of the same ventilation cover as he was. "I wish to see what it is you're assessing," she said calmly, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "There is simply not enough room for me to go by your side in this vent, so I'm lying on your back."

Jack swallowed slightly, and continued looking out of the vent. "U-Uh...r-right you are, Miss Cave..." he murmured.

'_God, she's so light. And she smells like cherries...'_

"I hope I'm not being a distraction?" Cave asked. Jack couldn't read people very well, but she seemed genuinely curious. "I cannot see as much as you in my current position. May I move forward?"

Jack sucked air through his teeth, frowning. "Not that there's much to see," he noted, "But, uh, go ahead, I s'ppose?"

"Thank you, Mr. Loondumb. Please hold still for a moment."

Jack lowered his head slightly to hide his embarrassment as Cave slid the front of her body against the back of his, which was accompanied by quiet grunts of exertion. He was forced to shove some _**very**_ dirty thoughts out of his head immediately, instead trying to remain calm and collected as he looked out of the thin vent cover.

Just then, Cave practically lay her head against the side of his. He understood that it was hard to see through the vent, considering the size, but...

"D-Do you really need to be this close?" he stuttered quietly. Cave exhaled for a moment, either through frustration or exhaustion. Both were pretty viable answers. He couldn't see her very well, but she seemed...bored?

Good to know she was back to normal, at least.

"I must say, that for this current situation, the fact that your biggest worry is my _clothed_ body against yours is both quite comforting, in that you're showing a remarkably positive attitude, and also rather depressing."

Jack frowned. "How's it depressin'?"

"If this is your reaction to _clothed_ physical contact, then it brings my attention to the apparent teenage traumas from your past that Miss IF and Miss Histoire mentioned."

'_Those free-mouthing bastards.'_

"Yeah...that..." Jack trailed off. Cave released a quiet "_Hmm._", and the two went back to silently watching outside of the vent.

Was she still mad at him?

There was silence.

Cave thought for a moment as her eyes looked out of the vent and into the darkened room before them, trying to pick out features to discern where they were, exactly.

Was he still mad at her?

There was further silence.

Finally, the pair of them sighed.

"Listen, Cave –"

"Don't worry about it."

Jack paused, then looked over his shoulder at his companion.

Her emerald green eyes were clearly preoccupied with something, putting a troubled look on her matured face.

"If..." he began, swallowing, "If there's...anythin'. Anythin' I can do to make up for the shit I said earlier...just lemme know. I don't think I can put into words how _sorry_ I am for all that." There was more silence. "Look, if you're still pissed off at me –"

Cave's arms suddenly moved, from between his shoulders to underneath his body as he lay down. He tensed immediately, expecting her to find some way of choking him out or something.

Instead, her head leaned against the back of his own, and she let out another sigh.

"It's alright, Mr. Loondumb," she murmured, practically nuzzling the back of his head. "I think the fact that you came back to save everyone speaks more volumes about who you are than any assumptions that I had made whilst protecting you." She hesitated. "This is hardly the best place in the world for this kind of discussion, but-"

A massive, armoured fist slammed through the bottom of the vent, grabbing Jack by his body armour and suddenly smashing him against the roof of the vent, Cave pinned behind.

He barely had time to react as the arm kept him up there, clearly thinking it was strangling him; It began tightening its' grip, bending the top portion of Jack's new armour.

With Cave pinned behind him, Jack knew he couldn't stay like this or pretend to be dead.

His mind went right back into combat mode, and he drew his knife, delivering a fast but cack-handed slash across the wrist of the the hand that was attacking him. It recoiled slightly in what seemed to be surprise, before pulling itself out of the hole it had made on entry to the steel vent. Jack and Cave had no time to see what damage that had done, instead slamming onto the bottom of the vent on top of each other.

Jack immediately dropped onto all fours and began crawling as fast as possible, Cave still lying on his back. She was tempted to voice her protest, but then realized that she was being carried away at great speed; Ultimately, that was what she needed, and so she didn't complain.

He'd been aiming to reach the support beam up ahead, but clearly, whatever the Hell was down below had a _very_ different idea. Jack barely reacted in time to dodge a shotgun blast that tore through the vent to his right, spattering him and Cave with buckshot, before he immediately dropped back, with _another_ shotgun burst tearing through the vent where his crotch had been moments before.

Jack violently shifted left, dropping Cave off his back, drawing one of the Deagles from his disk and slotting it through the hole that had just materialized from the assaults.

Then, without hesitation, he started slamming the trigger back, with no remaining regard for his wrist's safety. Something definitely popped; Either his wrists, or Cave's eardums, but it had the effect it needed to.

A filtered voice from below rang out with a yell of surprise, before the fist punched through the vent again, gripping Jack's vest once more. This time, however, it came with a tug, physically tearing Jack through the steel vent, pulling his lower abdomen onto a waiting left hand, before spinning him around and throwing him across the room.

He slammed onto the floor, rolling violently and flinging the goggles from his head as he slid across the floor. Jack barely got his bearings in time to catch a passing support beam, stopping him before he fell down a hole in the floor.

Steadily, he picked himself up, and looked around.

The whole room was easily the size of a football pitch, and very dark. All around, there were undecorated steel and concrete pillars that generally meant this room...hell, _floor_ was under construction or renovation. There were a few drywalls around the place, which were no good for physical cover, but incredibly good for line-of-sight cover.

Then, Jack turned his attention to his opponent, pulling out the Mossberg and sliding in a shell of 00 Buckshot.

The figure across the room was about the same height as him, heavily armed, and of roughly the same build. However, that was where similarities ended: The man (?) facing him was clad in a heavy set of dirty and scratched olive-green armour, a few parts glowing with lights and a visor that was reflecting his own image. Considering all the wild shit that'd been thrown at him in the past few months, Jack made his assumptions.

"Nice power armour," he said flatly, raising his shotgun and racking the pump. "I take it there's no more in stock?"

"_**Flat-out of it, you bastard,**_" came the response. It, just like the mask from the Kung Fu Cop, garbled the voice slightly, but Jack immediately had the accent. African.

His mind raced back to the team of South African police officers that had been on the training courses. Brutal sons-of-bitches, but he supposed that just came naturally if you're a police officer in that dump.

"Well, I hope the receipt's still in there somewhere," Jack continued, beginning to menacingly circle him. "Because I'm gonna need to take it back to the shop so they can clean your sorry arse out of it when I'm done."

The man in the suit just laughed.

"_**This is not an action movie, boy,**_" the African snapped dismissively, pointing a huge gloved finger at him. "_**You have caused a lot of trouble today. One-liners will not save you.**_"

Jack wasn't using the circling to spout shitty one-liners, though.

He was using it to buy extra seconds within which to come up with a clever way to outdo the guy, and identify possible hazards and weapons.

For one thing, the guy was lugging an AA-12 in his right hand. Jack hadn't noticed that immediately, since he'd had it behind his back.

Not only that, but from the appearance of the shape on his back, he _also_ had some kind of much bigger weapon. Looked like some kind of...hammer.

Thankfully, they were the only two he could see, but now Jack knew he was a pretty close-range opponent.

"They won't?" he smirked. A plan was set up immediately. "Shame. Let's see if that glorified Tin Man cosplay'll save your skin, then_**.**_"

The man – presumably – grinned, and took on a stance indicating he was going to run.

"_**With pleasure.**_"

The ground in front of Jack practically exploded before he could open his mouth, and his vision was suddenly filled with the man's fist slamming into his face.

Blood jetted from Jack's mouth as he was thrown across the room, accompanied by a sound that seemed like a gunshot of a hit.

'_W-WHAT?! HOW'S THIS BASTARD SO FAST?!'_

He'd barely gotten his bearings again, scraping across the floor on his feet, before the armoured man was back upon him. He suddenly jumped at least ten feet in the air, AA-12 pointed towards Jack and dumping shells in a hail storm of pellets.

Jack grit his teeth and shielded his face from the smattering of lead, raising his shotgun one-handedly and firing a shot towards his opponent mid-air. The results were immediate; The armoured man suddenly began glowing a bizarre golden, lightning streaking all around him with no damage to the suit itself, but he was sent flying backwards, performing a backwards roll as he landed and standing up.

Grunting, Jack glared back at him, using his left forearm to wipe away the blood that had splashed from his mouth and his right arm to swap out the Mossberg for the AK.

"Energy shields, eh?" he called over. His opponent shrugged, and mockingly brushed at the spot Jack had hit him. "How's it feel, bein' enough of a pansy that you need a fuckin' energy shield?" A second or two later, he was enveloped in the strange golden field again, before it disappeared.

The African rolled his shoulders. "_**An advantage is an advantage. For instance, this suit will enable me to pull your arms and legs off with little trouble.**_" Once more, Jack assumed he was grinning behind the visor. "_**I am also fast enough that I can punch you before you can react.**_"

"I noticed," Jack snapped. "But pull that suit off, and what're you? Some deadbeat copper that got tired of rapin' schoolkids in South Africa and decided he wanted to rape toddlers in a new dimension. That about right?"

Seemingly, this hit a nerve.

Jack knew this because the guy had flung himself towards him, the punch narrowly missing his face.

In the brief moment, Jack was tempted to try and snap his arm, but he was gonna just have to try and get the guy out of the fucking window: There was _no_ way he would be able to beat this son of a bitch through force.

As the armoured man reeled from the missed punch, Jack span heel and booted him in the back. He hadn't expected it to work, and nor had he expected the armoured guy to flick his feet backwards, two-footing him in the side of the face as he slammed onto the floor.

Jack yelled out in pain, instinctively gripping the trigger on the AK and beginning to release a hail of rounds onto the man as he picked himself up and sprinted across the room. The guy slid, and went behind a pillar. Jack did the same, and began adjusting his weapons.

He could only imagine that Cave was probably crawling away by now, or still hiding in the vent.

Whatever she was doing, she was gonna be getting the massage of a lifetime if she could pull him out of this one.


	38. God Slayers

In spite of its new lack of effective depth perception, the Cyber-Dragon still had every intention of tracking down and killing those two humans for the damage they'd done to him. Sure, its arm has exploded, and it had lost the CPUs, but it could probably still flatten them.

By the time it had finished calibrating itself, Luke had run from behind Harmod's to a new store across the street, the creature surprisingly not paying attention to the sandy-beige blob that moved across its line of sight.

Meanwhile, Josh was trying to move the CPUs down the street via the classic technique made famous by PAYDAY 2; Move one forwards, then put them down, then go back for another, move them forwards, then go back for another, and so on.

It was his least favourite type of bag chaining, especially since if he dropped these bags too hard, they'd probably die. "At least you're light..." he muttered, picking up Lady Blanc and scurrying between the aisles of parked cars to place her down beside Lady Noire and Lady vert. His legs weren't hurting nearly as much as they should have been, especially considering his thirty foot drop, but he supposed that being under General Platinum's training regime probably had a hand in making his legs practically invulnerable to long falls.

Regardless, he was making progress; The blockade down the street was much closer, now, so he'd nearly gotten the CPUs out of the danger zone. As he scurried along with Lady Neptune under his arm, he pressed his radio again. "Chaz, are we nearly set up?"

The silence came for a second, then Chaz's background noise became apparent. "_Almost there. Probably about two miles out, on the other side of the tower._"

"Excellent," Josh nodded, "Luke, you get that?"

"_Always do..._" muttered the Irishman. "_And James, I take it your affairs are in order?_"

The response came seconds later. "_Oi, shut up, I'm riskin' life and limb, here,_" retorted the sniper. Luke scoffed loudly.

"_Sent your 'Goodbye' text to that Mina lass?_"

"_Shut the fuck up, Luke. Least I'm gettin' somewhere with her._"

"Guys, this isn't the time to discuss women," Josh groaned, looking around. "I'm almost at the edge of the evacuation zone. The CPUs are starting to shift around, too. Luke, I take it you're in position?"

"_Almost._"

"Well, hurry up, because Chaz is almost here. Keep speed up, Chaz."

"_I'm trying to,_" came the pilot's response. "_We'll need to start the plan in the next ten seconds, or this arsehole's gonna see me coming._"

"Alright. Luke, get in position. James, you remember your part?"

James sighed, and pulled out his laser pointer. "_Unfortunately, I do._" He put the small pointer to the lens of his rifle scope, then turned to the family behind him. "You guys should probably evacuate the buildin'."

After a hesitation, the mother and father both nodded, and practically dragged their kids out of the apartment. James was left sat at their window, rifle ready. He adjusted his cap brow and headset, then waited for the order.

The Cyber-Dragon was now slowly scanning the street to try and find Luke and Josh. The white glow in its chest was clearly visible, and James had the best way of turning that light off.

Loaded into his Arctic Warfare was one of the fifty high-explosive rounds that had been issued to him along with his original arsenal of weapons. It was effectively the same as an impact-primed grenade, except that it would embed in the object, and after a three second delay, explode.

He was kicking himself for not using them sooner, but he supposed he probably didn't need them to fight regular monsters. Besides, this arsehole deserved it.

With his right index finger on the trigger, and his left hand pointing a laser down the scope, he narrowed his eye through the small gap he had to see the target with.

Then, the radio kicked in, again.

"_Let's rock and roll, James._"

He grinned, and flicked the 'ON' switch for the laser.

Five miles away, a split second later, the light hit the Cyber-Dragon's body. It didn't notice, obviously, but it did still have a lot of brightness to it.

"_Perfect,_" Josh said, squinting to look down the street. "_Get it in the eye. A bit of adjustment upwards._"

"On it," James replied. He then made a few _very_ minute movements to his rifle, slightly moving the pointer steadily up the Dragon's body, until...

The beast let out a brief, surprised roar, shuffling back and batting at its eye as the laser went into it. It presumed it was a sensor issue.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Chaz's Apache swing around the side of the Planeptune tower, with a lot of speed behind it and the Challenger dangling underneath.

Everything was going to plan, so far.

"_Hit it again!_" Josh cried. James obliged, pointing the laser to hit the dragon's eye for a second time, prompting it to start smacking the side of its head to try and fix the clearly faulty optical sensor.

James was secretly quite thankful it didn't see where it was getting blinded from, otherwise it'd probably fuck him up with miniguns.

Chaz picked up speed, sweeping the Challenger low into the street and just above parked cars, sailing it along the ground at speed. Josh saw it coming, and smiled.

"_James! One more time!_" he yelled excitedly. James smiled, and did it again.

This time, the dragon identified where it was being blinded from, and shielded its' eye from the glare, turning to face where James was hiding.

His heart nearly stopped.

"Oh, fuck me."

He snapped the trigger backwards, firing off the explosive round.

As the dragon prepared to raise its cannon, a few seconds passed before something slammed into its crystalline core. For a moment, it hesitated, and looked down at it.

Then, it was forced to stagger backwards as the small bullet detonated with the force of two hand grenades, practically shattering the entire crystal in one go. The roar this time was absolutely ear-shattering, the dragon stumbling backwards as smoke and fire billowed from the hole in its chest. It almost tripped over on a lorry, stepping on countless cars as it stumbled around.

"I've done all I can!" James said quickly, gathering up his equipment and making a break for the door. "Down to you lads, now!"

Josh heard him, and changed radio frequency. "_Chaz! Now! Do it NOW!_" he screamed.

Chaz, behind his visor, smiled, and tugged at the stick of his Apache to veer it upwards. The dragon had just noticed him, and tried to make a wild swipe at him to take him out. Before it could, Chaz launched a small volley of machinegun fire at it, staggering it once more and halting the strike.

Then, the pilot braced himself, and flew over the dragon's head.

A second later, the full force of a seventy-ton Challenger tank travelling at two hundred miles an hour slammed in an upwards arc into the Cyber-Dragon's upper body, smashing apart what remained of its torso and jaw, then causing it to practically flip over backwards, sailing into the air and raising about twenty feet off the ground.

Immediately, Luke and Josh smiled, individually breaking out into cheers as the giant beast slammed back down to earth, shaking the entire area and throwing a number of cars around, huge purple flames billowing from the gaping hole in its chest. It didn't even have the energy left to roar; Instead, it weakly tried to raise its arm once again to fire at Chaz's helicopter, but failed, the arm going limp.

Its head rolled back, the light in its eyes died, and the flames continued as a dribble of molten steel began trickling from its wrecked jaw and pooling on the floor.

Luke, after a hesitation, clambered out of the window of the building he'd been hiding in, rappelling down and raising his rifle once he'd reached the bottom. Peering up the street, he could just see the figure of James running over, and Josh was handing the CPUs over to a group of soldiers at the end of the street. Above, Chaz was trying to place the Challenger down in a way that wouldn't fuck it up even more.

Then, he looked back at the mangled corpse of the Cyber-Dragon. It was still as tall as a house, even lying down.

But it was also dead.

So that was a win for the Earth boys.

The Irishman absentmindedly lit a cigarette as Josh walked over to investigate the creature. "Think we got it?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and briefly pondering how many cigarettes he'd gone through in the past few chapters.

Josh sniffed, dipping his finger in a rapidly expanding pool of motor oil that was leaking from beneath the behemoth. "Well, I dunno, Luke," he retorted, "I mean, there's a lot of things that aren't attached to it anymore, and all this oil leaking everywhere. I would assume it's dead, wouldn't you?"

Luke grimaced. "Hey, keep in mind that MAGES. told us that Jack saw it revive itself. I wouldn't be so sure." He paused, looking to the raging inferno that was the dragon's gaping chest wound. "How bad's the fire, up there?" Josh raised a brow, and looked over at the purple flames.

"I'm not going in that, Luke."

"Wasn't sayin' you needed to, but it'd be nice. Any luck, those fires melt the batteries, and this thing doesn't get up."

Josh nodded slowly.

"What about the crystal? Really did a number on the CPUs."

Luke hesitated, blowing a cloud of smoke.

"You've a point, there..."

As Josh clambered onto the corpse, Luke pored over the options in his head.

They would probably have to sweep up any fragments and hand it all into the government. A weapon that could disable the Goddesses...if that once again got obtained by terrorists, the whole world was fucked.

He dragged from his cigarette again, holding the smoke before releasing it in a sigh.

...but the potential benefits of having an anti-CPU weapon for them to use if things ever got bad for the Earth boys were pretty noticeable.

What if the CPUs ever just decided that they weren't needed, anymore, and tried to kill their team? The only one who'd probably stand the slightest chance would be Jack, and even then he'd get pretty fucked up.

He glanced at the ground.

Next to his foot was a large chunk of the broken crystal, still pulsating with a white energy. It was easily big enough to use somehow, and even though he wasn't a technical man, he would be able to find some way to weaponize it.

He narrowed his eyes.

Then, ensuring that Josh was distracted, he kneeled down, swept up the large fragment, and quietly slipped it into the large magazine-dumping bag tied to the back of his belt.

Without further hesitation, he tightened the strings at the top of the bag, then walked over to where he could see James marching towards the fallen monster.

It felt so incredibly wrong.

But it needed to be done as a contingency.

"_Just in case._" He murmured quietly,

Overhead, Chaz let the payload loose, dropping the Challenger as near to the ground as possible in order to focus on straightening up the chopper. The armoured vehicle hit the ground with an unholy crash, once again flattening a number of cars and bouncing slightly, prompting Luke to jump slightly due to the proximity.

One of the side skirts covering the treads dropped off with a mighty bang, and the barrel sagged. A few seconds later, the turret began gradually sliding off the frame of the tank, before eventually coming to a stop when it slid off the front of the tank.

Luke whistled through his teeth, glancing over to it.

"Well, shit, there goes the no-claims bonus."

_**Meanwhile, back with London...**_

As yet another salvo of 12 gauge shells attempted to pierce the concrete pillar, Jack narrowed his profile and continued contemplating his position.

He wasn't even in a good position to stick his neck out of cover, since the other guy in the armoured suit seemed to be the South African reincarnation of Vasily Zaytsev with that AA-12.

Where the fuck was Cave? Hopefully she was still in the vent, otherwise the armoured guy would notice her.

What good would his armaments be? Sure, he'd picked up the rocket launcher and minigun again on his way up, but they'd slow him down too much. The rockets would be too slow, too; This arsehole was twitchier than George Michael's final hours, and he could just dodge the damned things.

Just then, the gunfire stopped, and there came the sound of metal clanking on concrete.

Shit, the other guy was moving.

Jack gripped the AK tightly, listening for the direction.

Now, it'd take about ten seconds for the other guy to-

The ground beside him practically exploded as the massive form of his opponent landed next to him, AA-12 waist-high and pointed towards him.

"FUCKIN' HELL!" Jack screamed.

His normal instincts told him to go backwards.

His lust for violence made him lunge forwards.

Jack threw himself towards the massive green brute, catching a few shells to the chest as he moved for the tackle. His full weight slammed into the armoured man, eliciting a grunt from him as they both went crashing towards the ground.

Jack immediately knew he'd made a mistake.

He'd been fast enough to dodge the first time.

Why didn't his opponent dodge?

He just had to go with it.

As they both went tumbling to the floor, Jack pulled his bayonet and pointed it towards the nearly spotless visor that faced him. If he could just get the force right, he could –

Something pressed onto his stomach.

Oh, shit.

"_**Go to Hell, white devil!**_" his opponent bellowed, before kicking forward with his legs. London was immediately thrown straight up into the air with great speed, almost dropping his knife as he went flying and yelling towards the roof. With an almighty bang, Jack hit the ceiling with his back.

Something cracked quite loudly, and it didn't sound like Kevlar.

As he came tumbling back down towards the ground – easily about fifteen feet – the other guy got back onto two feet with a loud 'whoosh', a jet of flame washing from the bottom of his calves and shoulder blades.

Then, he reeled back his fist, and delivered a brutal right hook straight into London's face as he came into range, throwing him across the large empty room like a ragdoll. He cried out in pain, soaring through the air before finally coming to an agonizing halt when he smashed through a thin brick wall, crumpling into a pile on the other side.

His ears ringing, London began to pick himself up, trying to hear...where was the other guy?

Where was Cave?

He coughed as he picked himself up.

A short jet of blood spewed onto the floor.

Ah, fuck, not again.

He grimaced.

The footsteps were definitely picking up.

The ringing subsided.

He heard metal clicking.

The other guy was reloading.

This couldn't be happening.

His grimace briefly became that of fear.

And then it hardened.

This couldn't be happening.

This _wouldn't_ be happening.

There was absolutely no fucking chance it would be happening.

He grit his teeth and sucked up the pain for the time being.

Jack glanced around to find the AK.

Crap, he couldn't see it.

RPD was too unwieldy for the tight quarters and the pistols were too weak and the shotguns were too slow.

The chainsaw'd be useless against the armour.

His mind raced.

What was the best way to kill a heavily armoured opponent?

The footsteps were getting closer, and the dust was beginning to settle from the wall explosion.

He could see clearer, now; Looked to be some kind of Foreman's office or tool storage room that he'd been thrown into.

As Jack's eyes locked onto the corner of the room, he grinned in the low light.

Medieval tactics...how could he forget at a time like this?

To kill an opponent in armour, first, you need something big, heavy, and blunt.

Jack darted over to the rack of hammers in the corner of the room.

They were locked behind a metal barrier – a barrier which he promptly ripped from its mounting.

The biggest hammer there was a whopping eighty pound sledgehammer with a rebar spike on one end, likely designed to make holes for other pieces of rebar.

So, he had some means to do damage.

But it might not be enough. He probably wouldn't be able to rapidly swing a hammer like that as a rapid combat weapon.

He had to make one hit, make it hard, and make it the killing swing.

If he could get enough force...no, _**momentum**_, then he could slam that thing through the glass visor of the bastard outside.

He heard the other guy take position near a pillar outside. The bolt was being racked on the AA-12.

He was basically blocking Jack's only exit.

He grimaced. "Don't turn this into a Home Alone movie, dickhead!" Jack called through. There was no response. "Lemme guess, you can't relate because you didn't have a home in Africa?"

"_**Oh, no, I had a home, white boy,**_" the man snapped back. "_**I just think it would be foolish for me to enter a room I did not do reconnaissance of before you arrived.**_"

"Very talkative, ain't you?" Jack laughed, crouching behind a steel box with his new hammer. "You're givin' me time to reshape my entire strategy, here, you fuckin' nonce." He glanced across the room; A first aid kit. Nice. Should have a health potion, he supposed. But then he would have to cross the open gap to reach it.

His wounds would have to remain open, for now.

"_**No matter what strategy you come up with, I am faster, stronger, and better than you!**_" the armoured man bellowed.

"Lemme guess, armour power's gone to your head?"

Jack just kept stalling him. The longer he was stalled, the more time Cave had to either invent a plan, or escape.

That, and it meant that the other guy was getting more riled up.

If he was angry, he would make mistakes.

"_**The suit is just there to bolster,**_" the man snarled. Jack's eyes caught his reflection in a piece of broken glass; There he stood, behind a pillar, AA-12 levelled at the exit hole in the wall. "_**I was near these levels of power before I put on the suit; The bravest warrior of my tribe!**_"

"A tribe? No wonder you hate me for being white," Jack sneered. "Scared I'm gonna follow in my great granddad's footsteps and wipe your arse off the face of Africa, again?" The man visibly shifted in the reflection, clearly absolutely _fuming_ behind the helmet.

Well, at least he now knew that racism was a remarkably effective tactic against this guy. Jack's mind began racing to find some of the most Frankie Boyle-like comments he could make.

In an attempt to avoid a small flamewar, the author checked in on Cave before London got more racist.

_**Meanwhile, in the vents...**_

Cave's hands flexed around the grip of her scissors as she skulked through the shadows. Across the room, London's voice echoed out saying something that she assumed was probably incredibly offensive. Meanwhile, the armoured enemy shifted uncomfortably.

Clearly, London was upsetting him.

But how long could he do that for?

She mentally went over the advanced calculations in her head and determined that it could _probably_ be for an infinite time.

The cold breeze rolling through the windowless area of the building entered the tears in her clothing, chilling Cave's skin as she moved around the barely lit construction site. But any shivering, she kept on the downlow: She had one shot to damage the man in front of her, and he could probably put his fist through her head.

So, as much as possible, she kept to the shadows. The edges of her trusted scissor blades were glowing their usual pink-ish crimson, which was likely going to give her away if he looked over, but Jack seemed to be keeping him entertained enough that he probably wouldn't look over to her.

That in mind, she wasn't going to try and hang around.

Her spec ops training from the RRoD had been nearly useless for a good while; They kept sending her against full frontal enemies, so she'd never actually _needed_ to sneak up on someone and slice their throat. That wasn't to say she _hadn't_ done it before – in fact it was the quickest way to end most confrontations in the field – it was more down to the fact that stealth had never been _mandatory_.

She was slightly regretting her choice of wearing high heels all the time, doing her best to suppress the 'clack' that came with them.

As she neared her opponent, Cave began only moving when either man was yelling. She also took a good look at her opponent as she lurked less than twenty meters behind him, waiting in the shadows.

The first misconception to be cleared up was his height: He wasn't the same build as London, which she had presumed earlier, but he was instead easily about seven foot tall. Almost a _head_ taller than London, maybe two. She wasn't sure if it had anything to do with the author making that mistake in the last chapter, but nevertheless, Cave now hated the author even more for the fact she was currently running around semi-naked.

The second was the fact that his armour was labelled "_**ARMORNAUT MOBILE DEFENSIVE PLATFORM**_".

Cave winced.

Her genre sense was tingling; The word 'platform' being used to describe a suit of armour was never a good sign.

The man in front of her was getting increasingly agitated. If she was guessing correctly – just from her memory of meeting Leanbox's PERSIAN Soldiers – a suit of armour like that would likely have some form of motion detector. Thankfully, she knew from the PERSIANs themselves that the motion detector would be useless if she moved slowly enough.

Her plan was to sneak up on him and get the hammer from his back. It was too big and had too many glowing parts to _**not**_ be absolutely devastating, so she would be better off just finding out how to drop it from his back.

So long as London was calling him what she assumed were incredibly offensive things, and making him think twice about entering that hole in the wall, she had time to process what she could do.

For the briefest moment, she was completely stumped as she got within ten meters.

Could her scissors even get through that armour...?

Something tugged lightly on her ears.

Frowning, she silently reached up to investigate.

Her earrings were being pulled forwards, towards...

...Cave smirked.

She knew _exactly_ how that thing was staying in place on his back.

He was using magnets to hold it in place.

And it had to be a very strong one if it was pulling her earrings from that distance.

She looked down at her scissors.

Maybe she did have an idea, actually.

_**Meanwhile, back with London...**_

So far, Jack had managed to slip past the gap undetected and down the entirety of a Large Healing Potion. He'd also managed to survey the area outside just enough that he could think of his plan.

There was probably enough room.

All he had to worry about were the massive holes in the walls and the glass that he'd end up flying through if he wasn't careful.

He also had to avoid hurting Cave.

_And_ he had to hope the hammer would be enough. He probably couldn't get his knife through the visor by hand, but perhaps if he tried hammering it in?

No, impossible.

His mouth was running off racism and offensive comments faster than Mel Gibson, but he had absolutely no idea what was being said.

His plan was set. He went over it a few more times.

The other guy hadn't made a move yet; Smart. He probably knew a grenade wouldn't be enough, and a frontal assault through the only entrance would vapourize him.

That meant Jack only had one possible exit; The way he came in.

A glance over his shoulder inside the dark tool-shed revealed that there was a little bit more length on the other end of the room.

Silently, he withdrew the rocket launcher.

Maybe he could use the exit with less danger.

Sledgehammer in his left hand, rocket launcher waist-high in his right, Jack mentally steeled himself, then pulled the trigger.

The wash of flame lighting up the room was followed by the deafening boom of a wall exploding outwards, forcing the armoured man outside to shield his face but begin wildly firing the AA-12 into the wash of fire.

Jack didn't know this, of course; He was running on assumptions.

Which basically meant he _assumed_ this plan would work.

The floor nearby nearly exploded as Jack charged forward, leaping through the hole he had made the first time and spinning. Then, he pointed the missile launcher at the floor, grit his teeth, and fired at the apex of his jump.

He let out a yell of pain as his legs flared up with shrapnel and he flew a huge distance across the room.

He couldn't stop now. No giving in to the pain.

Again, he grit his teeth, and as he began dropping down, he readjusted the launcher and fired again, sending him soaring to the right in a sudden change of direction. He was fairly certain his leg had just snapped.

His eyes pricked with tears, but those tears immediately dried up from the rushing wind and heat.

As he readied for the next shot, he began feeling pellets stinging into him as the armoured African began firing his AA-12 towards him from distance, like some kind of overly-aggressive bird hunter.

Some of them were digging through and hitting the flesh on his torso, which frustrated him quite a lot; The Kung Fu Cop seemed to make all of London's shots disappear when he was wearing the armour, but now that London was wearing it, it had about as much protective ability as his old kevlar vest did.

Nevertheless, he should have been more concerned about the shrapnel tearing his legs apart, and timing his next jump.

The floor was rapidly approaching; He adjusted once more, and fired.

This time, he was heading straight towards his foe at a very high speed, and there was a lit of ground between him and the target.

He grit his teeth and fired behind him, doubling his speed in a loud boom that once again shook the entire area. His opponent was right in front of him, he just had to –

-_**CAVE?!**_

Right in front of him, Cave stood up and delivered a rapid over-arm throw of her scissors to the back of the armoured man's head. The magnets in the back of his suit that clutched his hammer in place drew the razor-sharp blades towards him with increasing speed, covering the distance of the throw in a much shorter time than normally possible and finally slamming into the back of his helmet with a dull _**thunk**_.

The South African man yelled out in pain; It hadn't gone through. He was still moving properly.

But he was turning to face Cave, and that was what Jack needed.

His mind flashed briefly.

He span the hammer in his hand, dropping the launcher as he did so, and the massive, flat end of the sledgehammer was raised behind him as he screamed forward.

Jack's vision was completely blood-red, now, but he still knew exactly what he needed to swing for.

"_**HAMMERIN' IT HOME!**_" Jack roared, before letting out an almighty battle cry as he swept the hammer forward.

The swing, combined with his forward force, struck the side of the handle of Cave's recently-implanted scissors. Rather than breaking, the resilient weapon instead acted as a lever, spinning the armoured man's head along with the hammer impact. His rather sickening scream was instantly cut short by an almost climatic yet disturbing wet snap of a spine breaking from being twisted around, and the sudden limpness of his entire body showed to Cave that London's strike – however conveniently it had linked up with her attempt at a distraction – had, indeed, killed his opponent in one swing.

London, however, was not so graceful in his descent to the ground: As soon as the swing was over, his tattered legs caught on the ground and practically tripped him over, sending him tumbling head over heels onto the ground and smashing through yet another thin brick wall with a devastating explosion of debris and dust.

Cave stepped back slightly and shielded her face; The sudden throw of a dustcloud, coupled with the lighting that had just gotten much darker as London presumably smashed into a circuit breaker and shut down the area's power, made it nearly impossible to see where he'd actually landed, but nevertheless, Cave started stumbling forward on a pair of broken stiletto shoes over piles of shattered masonry to find him.

Her vision was clouded by dust, and the fact she could barely hold balance without slipping on spent shotgun shells or pieces of brick or shrapnel just made it more imperative that she found London as fast as possible; If she wasted any time, there were _**incredibly**_ good odds that he would bleed out and die, in consideration of the injuries he just sustained.

Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her forearms to wave away the dust. She couldn't see far enough.

He had to be somewhere...

As she lowered her foot again, she suddenly heard a loud cry of pain, and she recoiled her leg immediately, looking down for the source.

She didn't have to go too far, at least: There, lying half-buried in rubble with his trouser legs and lower body completely riddled with shards of steel and saturated in blood, was Mr. London. He seemed to be fully conscious, which was probably not a good thing, considering that his legs...

...well, they weren't in good shape.

Cave dropped to her knees beside him, and without touching him, assessed the damage. "Mr. Loondumb, that was completely outlandish," she said scoldingly, gazing down at his legs. "You could have torn yourself in half!"

London just chuckled briefly. "Well...long as Captain Kid Killer over there's not alive anymore, I'm thinkin' I did a good job..." he grunted, attempting to shift himself up.

Immediately, Cave placed her hands on his shoulders to halt him. "Mr. Loondumb, _**stay still**_," she ordered. "Your legs are almost completely shattered; I have no idea how much damage you'll do by moving around. Please, just lie still." She stared her larger companion in the eyes, before he finally sighed and nodded slowly, gently lowering himself back down onto his bed of rubble.

The dust was clearing, now, so Cave could make out their surroundings more easily. In the room that London had smashed through, it appeared to be – through some form of absolute convenience – what she assumed to be this floor's infirmary or medical area. Presumably there would be a very good supply of health kits in there.

She looked down at London, again, smiling slightly. She knew that she could comfort him more effectively that way, and he needed all of it that he could get. "There's a lot of medical supplies in here. A few Life Fragments and potions should be a good temporary solution until we can get you to a hospital." Briefly, she was tempted to run her hand over his head, just like her mother used to do to her when she was sick, but refrained.

As she got up to find potions, she heard London chuckling again. At least he was taking it well.

"Looked a bit constipated a second ago, Cave," he said in a strained voice. "Can't tell if you were tryin' to comfort me or if you were gonna tell me you spiked my drink." This time, Cave smiled, too, as her hands rummaged through the dark room's shelves in order to find the more powerful health potions.

"Well, I suppose I am not exactly suited to acting as a medic," she replied. Her hand graced a potion of Supreme Healing: That'd do. "I'm not particularly good with people, either, which is what I assume to be the reason I always end up with solo assignments from the RRoD."

"You know me, Cave, I fly solo, too," Jack grimaced. Fuck, he couldn't feel his right leg. "But I'd say we would've had no chance if you didn't throw those scissors at that jackoff when you did. I don't think my swing would've killed him in one go, and he would probably have dodged it, too, so I would end up here – dead – and then he'd turn his attention to you - dead." There was a silence between the two, as Cave began fast-walking back over to him with her arms full of potions.

When she set them down and attempted to get London into a position where she could feed him the potions, Cave's mind flashed over her very brief medical training.

_Step 5: Keep the patient talking._

"Mr. Loondumb, I need you to keep talking to me." Jack just nodded weakly.

"Yeah, dunno if that's a good idea," he groaned. "I'm losin' a lot of blood and I think I'm hallucinatin'. Take too long, and I'll probably start thinkin' you're an angel, or summat."

"All the more reason to get this done faster," Cave retorted. Her mind flashed to questions she could ask to keep him talking, as she slid her legs beneath his head for support. "Are you going anywhere nice, this weekend?"

Jack just smirked, looking straight up at her. His head was resting on Cave's lap, a technique that the special-forces agent had been taught to keep a patient's neck suspended on an uneven surface.

"Well, I dunno," he began, as Cave reached over to uncork one of the healing potions. "Think I might go to a tailor. Gone through a Hell of a lot of decent bits of clothing these past few hours." He paused, almost tempted to reach an arm up to shield himself from the lightbulb glare that flashed his eyes as Cave moved above him. "Christ, everything's so goddamn _bright_..."

"You not included, I take it?" Cave asked sarcastically. Jack laughed briefly, then winced again.

"You're a funny lady, Miss Cave," he muttered. "Hell, I think I'm startin' to like you more."

Cave narrowed her eyes slightly, spitting the cork of the bottle off to her right and tilting her body to the right so that she could move Jack's head. "You're hilarious," she deadpanned. "Now, open wide." One-handedly, she placed a hand on his forehead, tilting his head back, and Jack let his jaw hang open. His eyes were now staring directly up into Cave's determined face as she moved the potion towards his mouth.

Then, the usual taste of strawberry began splashing into his mouth and down his throat, then barely a half second later, his entire lower body was in absolute agony. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he gagged loudly, suddenly twitching violently in response to the pain. Cave winced slightly, but continued pouring the potion into his maw, shifting herself to slide her leg onto the top of his torso in order to try and pin him in place to limit the spasms.

"Mr. Loondumb, please, try to stay still!" she cried. London just continued screaming, barely managing to swallow the potion, and Cave could see why; Both of his legs were trying to twist themselves back from _incredibly_ unnatural angles, each movement being accompanied by a loud, sickening crack as they jolted and turned violently. London's hands began digging into a pair of bricks; Seconds later, he'd crushed them between his ever-tightening grip.

The bottle was barely half empty at this point, so she'd have to try and keep him still for that long. At the base of London's legs, there came a constant rattle of metal shards of shrapnel and bullets being forced out of his body, hitting the floor with a metallic _clink_ one by one.

Even with her powerful leg muscles, she couldn't hold him completely still: He was thrashing too hard. Gritting her teeth, and not letting up with her medicinal assault, she span slightly to remove her left leg from beneath his head, then straddled his chest, using her free hand to hold his mouth open.

Jack, whilst normally the type to panic over a woman on top of him, instead continued struggling to swallow the red substance, his eyes pouring with tears at this point as his knee rotated 90° in an instant with an appalling snap. His hands shot up and grabbed Cave's thighs, and she visibly gasped in pain at his grip.

Nevertheless, they both continued this agonizing dance for a few more seconds. A few more moments of agony, and it would all be over.

"Almost done! P-Please stop..._crushing my thighs_..." Cave could barely feel her legs as the bottle's final remnants trickled from the bottle, finally giving her the opportunity to throw the empty piece of glass across the room. London gasped for air as Cave rolled off his torso, dropping onto her back next to him and breathing heavily. "T-There..." she panted, wiping her brow with her forearm and then letting it flop back down onto the ground.

Jack was still in pain. The potion had worked, yes: What were once entirely smashed leg bones had managed to piece themselves back together and correct their positioning in a matter of seconds.

However, it didn't mean he wasn't in total agony.

It was then that he weakly reached an arm up, and tried to grab his chest to slow his heart rate.

What was it that Blazkowicz had told him?

_C-C-C-Count to f-f-f-our...in...in...in...inhale...f-f-fuck...I-I-I-I can't i-inhale..._

His eyes were still streaming tears.

He had died. He'd been shot thousands of times. He'd been defibrillated. He'd almost broken a friendship with the one woman who actually, _genuinely_ could comprehend any of his trains of thought.

But this...this was what hurt the most.

Hjs mind was still reeling from the sheer, Hellish agony that he had just endured.

He could barely see anything through the painful blur, and every single sound was muffled and mixed with a steady ringing.

Was Cave saying something to him?

She'd just saved his life.

Guess they were even, now.

It took a few minutes for him to regain his full situational awareness. During this time, Cave had gotten up and retrieved the weapons London had dropped during the fight, dragging the large guns over to him using a piece of tarpaulin as a drag-mat. She was just in the process of trying to tear up some bandages from the medkit to wrap over herself and cover her nude spots that had appeared from the torn clothing, when Jack stirred behind her.

Immediatelt, she turned, and darted over to his side. "Mr. Loondumb!" she said quickly, grabbing his shoulder and beginning to pull him to a sitting-up position. "Can you hear me? Do your legs work?" Jack, through bleary eyes, glanced down at his bloody crimson jeans. He gave his knees a test flex.

They worked just fine. Bit stiff, though.

He sighed, and rubbed his head. "Y-Yeah...yeah, they...they work..." he mumbled, before shaking his head and looking at Cave. She was now at his head height; If she was kneeling, and he was sat on the floor, they were equal heights. Useful info.

Cave let out a sigh, and rubbed her eyes slightly. "Good Goddess, Mr. Loondumb, don't scare me like that..." Her eyes ended up falling on her thighs; Five red dots on each one signified just how hard London had grabbed them out of desperation. She grimaced, and looked back at him; It seems he had noticed what he had done, and was looking away sheepishly.

"S-Sorry..." he whimpered. Cave narrowed her eyes, then sighed again, standing up.

"If you wished to grab my inner thigh, you could have at least taken me to dinner, first," she said finally, before offering a gloved hand and gesturing for him to get up. The usually brave man was now a glowing crimson. "So now you owe me a massage, _and_ dinner." As he pulled himself up, Jack's mind once again raced.

_Is she hitting on me?! NOW?! I nearly just fucking died!_

"Uh...sure, if...if that's what you want," he finally replied, dusting himself off. He was about to turn and collect his weapons.

"**Ahem.**"

He paused, then looked back at Cave. The woman was standing there, arms folded.

For some reason, it was only now that he realized how utterly fucked up she'd gotten.

One of her twintails was gone.

Her clothes were torn, and he could see her lacy black undergarments.

Her face was bloodied, but the healing potion from earlier seemed to have gotten rid of the actual cuts and bruising.

She had burn marks on her hair.

And yet, despite the fact she was _just_ on the edge of having a complete wardrobe malfunction, her eyes still showed the same burning hot confidence and icy calmness that he'd known her to have since the day he'd met her.

He swallowed, and turned to face her again. "Is...Is somethin' wrong?" he asked. Cave stuck out her lower lip, and gestured sarcastically with one hand.

"Oh, I don't know," she began, her voice clearly betraying the sarcasm, "Perhaps a '_thank you'_ would be nice? Or at least _some_ acknowledgement that I just saved your life?" Jack nodded slowly.

"I...I didn't think you cared..." he replied cautiously.

Cave looked flabbergasted. She moved towards him immediately. "I'm sorry, but _what_?! I rarely raise my voice, and that is just part of who I am," she snapped, jabbing a finger at his chest, "But I'm not a machine, Mr. Loondumb! I am _human_! Contrary to what your friends believe, with me refusing to socialize with them, I am a human, I have my likes, dislikes, secrets, and emotions!"

Jack raised his hands defensively. "I never said you were a machine, Cave –"

"Then _**TREAT**_ me like you know!" she screamed.

Jack blinked.

Holy shit, Cave was crying.

Oh shit, he'd be crying soon if he didn't stop her.

"Just say 'thank you'! Or hold a door open! Or ask how my day's been! Or just _talk_ to me!" she cried, grabbing his lapels. "The reason I got upset at you earlier is because you just didn't care about me! You acted as though I were some kind of obstacle in your path! It's gotten worse as our time together has gone onwards! Remember the nightclub?"

Jack nodded, swallowing and nodding guiltily.

He was gonna tell her that this wasn't the place or time, but...

...well...she seemed to be upset. _Very_ upset.

"Oh, you _do_?" she spat, hands on her hips. "Remember how when I was nearly killed, you left me at a hospital and didn't even _visit_? Not even a single check-up to see how I was – you didn't even _call_!" The woman wiped her eyes briefly, then raised a hand.

Then stopped.

She seemed to be on the verge of making a point.

If Jack was following correctly, and remembered his Fallout 4 companion interactions correctly...

...shit, she was about to leave him!

As Cave opened her mouth to speak, Jack realized this was the last second he had to make a play and stay friends with Cave.

However, his mind pored over every option he could think of, but tonight, he could only come up with one, and it was a very, _very_ risky move.

But he had no other choice.

Cave's eyes were soaked at this point.

"Mr. Loondumb, I'm thirty-two years old," she began, lowering her hand.

Jack held off on the big play...for the moment.

"In all of those years, I've always had to be on my own for most of the time. There has never been anyone who could keep up with me. Did you know that I am the _only_ field operative of the RRoD?"

Jack nodded silently.

Cave sighed, sitting herself down with a thud onto a block of concrete. "Thirty-two...most of the women I went to school with are already settled down and married. And what am I doing? Fighting terrorists and barely speaking to anyone. I don't even have any friends...nobody who actually wants to stay in my vicinity...I-I work too hard..." The woman's jaw trembled, as she stared ahead into the darkness of the building site around her. "Oh, Goddess, what did I _**do**_ with my life?!" Her head immediately fell into her hands, and she no longer even held back the crying, body jolting every so often as she tried to take a breath.

Jack knew that this was probably the best chance he had to make amends.

Carefully, he sat down on the block to her right, and reached his arms over to grab her bicep.

He'd expected to do more, since he'd only ever seen hugs in movies, but Cave didn't wait for the emotional soundtrack to start playing and immediately span to bury her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around his ribs and muffling her sobs with his shoulder.

He was taken by surprise with this: Cautiously, he placed his own arms around her back, and began gently stroking her hair.

God, she smelled like cherries.

And she was so warm...

"Cave, you're better than any partner I'd've ever ended up with in my life as a soldier," Jack whispered, continuing to caress her hair. "You're smart, genuine, and you don't do backtalk. That, and you're incredibly loyal...Hell, you followed me into this hellhole because it was in your job description, and you've already saved my life." The woman's sobs had quietened down at this point. "If you were as bad as you say you are, then I would've said summat. Besides, if we get out of this, we're gonna be housemates, and there's no way in _Hell_ I would share a house with some borin' machine."

Cave continued sobbing, shifting herself so that her forehead was planted on his collar.

"Hey." Jack then remembered the next movie cliché; He placed a hand under her chin and looked her in the eyes. "Ignore what everyone else is doin' at your age. People my age were out drinkin' and partyin' whilst I stayed at home. What they do doesn't make a damn day's difference to you: You're doin' amazin', Cave, so you do you. Heck, if being married is such a big thing for you, _**I'll**_ marry you! I think puttin' up with me for more than a few days'll sort out your 'overworked' problem proper fast!"

The redhead in his embraced couldn't help but conceal a laugh. Jack smiled.

"See? That's what I wanna look at, and that's the Cave I know. Cheer up, lass. You're one of the greatest women I know."

Cave swallowed, blinked away a few tears, then wiped her eyes again, sighing. "Oh...thank you, Mr. Loondumb..." The woman paused, then buried her head in his chest once again. "_Thank you, __**so**__ much..._" she whispered. There was another pause. "_Oh, Goddess, don't tell anyone this happened, OK?_"

Jack smiled, and petted the back of her head. "You're alright," he said as calmingly as possible, "You didn't even get to see my meltdown I had in front of Miss Hakozaki. That was just...well, humiliatin'." Cave emitted a chuckling noise.

"I...shall ask for a transcript," she said finally, pulling away from the hug. "I've...I've never done that before," she continued. "Thank you...I mean it."

Jack waved a dismissive hand, pretending he _wasn't_ a shade of burgundy as he processed how successful that he had just been in keeping on Cave's good side. "It's nothin', really," he replied casually. "Besides, I've never done that, either. At least now we've both hugged someone." He paused. "Hell, it felt kinda weird, doin' that when we've a terrorist to kill."

Cave nodded, wiping her eyes. "I know...I couldn't possibly be more thankful that my first hug was with someone as genuine as you, Mr. Loondumb. Who knows what would have happened if I had that breakdown in front of – say – Lady Hakozaki?" Jack shrugged in response.

"Well...then she could laud a stress-induced breakdown over _both_ of our heads, I s'ppose?"

"Indeed, she could. But then we can laud 'terrorist destroyers' over her head in response."

"A fair point. But we ain't gettin' that title if we don't go and beat the shit out of that Commie fuck upstairs."

Cave rubbed the back of her head. "...I...I suppose we should."

"I mean...you can kill him, if you want," Jack said finally. "He's done nothin' to me _personally_, but I feel like I'd get a pretty good kick out of poppin' his eyes out with my thumbs." His eyes wandered Cave's tattered dress. "Meanwhile, I'd imagine you have a bone to pick with him, and you're gonna break whichever bone you _do_ pick."

Cave's eyes hardened. "More like the whole skeleton," she said flatly. "I barely avoided sexual abuse."

The two looked at each other, the only other sound being rushing winds outside. The stomping had halted, but they supposed that the dragon was just standing still.

Jack cleared his throat.

"I mean, in consideration of how much damage this African did to me..." he began, "...what do we do if one of us dies?" Cave frowned, and thought for a moment.

Then, her eyes raised again, hardened and narrowed.

"The survivor just has to fight even harder."

Jack smiled.

"Back in the swing of things, Cave."

As the two stood up and Jack gathered his weapons, Cave dislodged her scissors from the back of the South African's helmet with an almighty _thunk_. She looked down at him, and squinted. "Mr. Loondumb," she began, "I would imagine you might be able to salvage this suit of armour with some work." Jack raised a brow, as he pulled the charging handle on the newly-acquired AA-12.

Then, he looked at the dead body...and tilted his head.

"Maybe," he replied, wandering over and giving the limp body a solid kick. "I'll certainly be back for it. If there's no surgeries to put it on, then I could do with a proper baller suit of power armour."

Cave nodded calmly, and began walking towards the stairs upwards.

"Do we have a strategy?" she called over, with London taking a moment to jog after her. "He has hostages."

Jack stroked his stubble, and thought for a moment. "Well...if I had to guess, he must have heard about that African's death over his radio. He'll probably be ordering a Counter Strike right about now. Hostages just make it harder."

"I can only imagine he would have kept most of his thugs standing around nearby," Cave suggested, "There were quite a few men in there whilst I was there." Jack considered this as the pair started up a concrete access staircase that was lit by construction lamps.

"How many're we talkin'?" Jack asked. Cave shot him a deadpan look as she followed behind him.

"I didn't count; They were too busy abusing me to identify themselves."

"Right...uh, sorry."

"And, Mr. Loondumb, once this is all over, I am expecting a spa-grade massage, which was part of our original deal."

Jack grimaced slightly, going red. "Yeah...not the best timin' for that, Cave..."

"Isn't it?" she retorted. "Let's not forget that we have nearly reached the top of this tower, and we have both nearly been killed on every floor. We must have each conversation as if it is our last, Mr. Loondumb." Jack sighed, and peered up the central gap between the stairs above.

"I'm not admittin' anythin' more personal than what I already have done, Cave," he said firmly, "And this just seems like an elaborate scheme of yours, or summat. What're you tryin' to make me say?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but with any luck, I can get something from you to use as leverage later on."

"Leverag? What 'leverage'? What're you gonna try leveragin' me for?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it is the will of the author?" Cave suggested.

"Who the fuck is the author?" Jack snapped. "I keep hearin' about this twat, and I don't know who he is! Tell him to piss off!"

Cave was tempted to make another comment in order to bulldoze away what remained of the fourth wall, but decided against it, instead opting to follow along behind London as the two ascended the staircases.

Jack felt as if the armoured man was probably going to be the toughest thing he killed all day.

Of course, that entirely hinged on whether Kashuba was ready for the two of them.

If he was, then he would probably be trying to set hostages up to die as soon as London tried anything.

Jack narrowed his eyes.

Then, he remembered what Cave had told him a few weeks before.

"Hey, Miss Cave," he began, turning around and stopping on a stair landing. "You said you're good with dodgin' bullets, didn't you?" The woman halted, and blinked.

"Well...I don't remember telling you that, but certainly, it is one area of expertise," she nodded. Then, her expression shifted to that of suspicion. "Wait...why do you ask?"

Jack tilted his head. "You good against stationary emplacements?"

"...I'd...consider them a speciality...?"

Jack grinned.

"Considerin' you mentioned the guy who grabbed Miss Nepgear had a turret, I've a feelin' that Commie Kashy up there is tellin' Mr. Chonker upstairs to set up for a siege."

Cave mulled over the name briefly. "Mr. 'Chonker'?"

"Eummat like that. Hell of a lot of Russians with the guys I came here with. Far as I remember, we had a guy who specialized in area-denial usin' a machine gun turret. That's where you come in." Cave groaned, and rubbed her forehead. "What?"

"Mr. Loondumb, for someone who genuinely cares about my well-being, you do have a strange tendency to send me against suicidal difficulties."

Jack shrugged. "Well, whilst you're dealin' with him – an old bloke with an even older machine gun – I get to fight an angry Russian who's also surrounded by very flimsy hostages," he replied calmly, checking his Desert Eagle again. "Your call on what you want to do."

There was a brief pause.

"...and you say this man is on a turret?"

"Yeah. Three-sixty degree field of vision. It's an old Russian machine gun with a rotary magazine on top. Considerin' you're good with those scissors, you could probably go for the tripod and break the damn thing."

"And he isn't as youthful and dangerous as his counterparts?"

Jack tilted his head side to side, his face contorting as he sucked air through his teeth. "Weeeeeell...I wouldn't really throw any assumptions in about the 'dangerous' bit," he sighed. "All of these guys are some of my world's most dangerous men: Despite Mr. Chonker bein' old, wouldn't surprise me if that bastard was ex-Spetsnaz or summat stupid."

Cave nodded slowly, stroking her chin with a tattered white glove.

"That being said, I would make the assumption that he should die similarly to the rest of these men?"

Jack nodded. "Should worst come to worst? Aye. Make it fast, though. Got a lot of respect for the older guys from the trainin'. Hate for 'em to suffer too hard."

Cave nodded. "I will do my best," she replied, taking point as they continued up the stairs. "Oh, and Mr. Loondumb?"

Jack felt a pang of worry.

"Yeah?"

"At the rate this mission is going, in regards to me saving you and you saving me quite frequently, we will likely end up never truly able to repay our debts to one another through simple favours. At some point, we will each need to do a large favour for the other person."

Jack swallowed hard.

Oh, shit, she was really getting into this whole 'same apartment' thing.


	39. The UK Office, Season 3: The Massacre

Naturally, with his commandeered leg equipment now a shredded mess, Jack's priority list was being rearranged in realtime as the pair ascended the staircase.

**To Do:**

**Punch Kashuba's teeth out through his arsehole**

**Convince Cave to start wearing more clothes / Find a clothing stall to get Cave not-naked again**

**Find a new pair of trousers**

Even if the trousers weren't jeans, as long as they meant he wasn't getting a Highland breeze every time he lifted his legs, he'd be fine with whatever. Despite the potions, his legs were still aching like Hell, so he was wincing with every few steps he took upwards, but never broke stride.

Of course, this was all not a major concern for him.

His day had brightened up after he ditched the sledgehammer for the massive F.R.S.E Hammer from the dead Armournaut, and stole his AA-12. That would make any of the terrorists within the office spaces above fresh meat for his kill-counter, since 90% of the walls in places like that were thin drywall slabs in close-quarters, and that's exactly the environment that two things thrived in: Shotguns, and automatics.

Fortunately, the AA-12 put both of those categories together.

Though, Jack did have a thought.

"Cave?" he began, grimacing as he rounded another railing. The woman behind him was struggling slightly, but since her legs hadn't been literally shattered, she was doing OK.

"Yes?" she said calmly, voice betraying her slight exhaustion, either due to the stairs or London's insistence on her heavy contribution.

"You experienced in attackin' through thin cover?"

"Are you experienced in Advanced Naked Watsu Massages?" came the instant reply. Jack rolled his eyes. "Because at the rate you'll have to pay me back, you'll likely be one of Gamindustri's most experienced masseuses."

"Cave, leave your massage fetish for later, alright?" he groaned, trying to figure out whether it was him or Cave that was meant to be naked in an 'Advanced Naked Watsu Massage'. "I was askin' because I wanted to know whether you needed somethin' to pierce cover. Got a couple of machine guns, if you want 'em."

Cave raised a brow. "I assume one of those is that 'Kalashnikov' rifle that you gave me an in-depth description of at the nightclub?" Jack was briefly surprised, stopping only to peek through a doorway and continue upwards.

"Hell, you remembered that?" he asked, turning to her and smiling. Cave nodded, a small smirk on her lips.

"I remember how you said it would not stop working even if you filled it with entrails," she replied calmly, catching up to London and glancing up the emergency shaft. "And considering that I will be bathing in Mr. Cashbar's entrails when I am done with him, it is good to know that it will not jam."

Jack nodded appreciatively. "Nice to know you care. You want it?" He reached into his disk, and pulled out the AK, the reassuring weight of the rifle filling his left hand. Normally, a man might strain with such a weight, but London had already figured out that it wasn't too hard to dual-wield. He offered it out towards his companion.

Cave eyed it up and down. "I do have my SP and EXE Drive attacks," she noted, before reaching up to accept the weapon. "Though, weapons from your world do seem to be able to shred through opponents much faster. Thirty rounds?"

Jack shrugged, and continued up the stairs as Cave assessed the world's most ubiquitous assault rifle. "Haven't run out, so far," he replied casually. "To be honest, infinite ammo's been a blessin', here."

"I'd imagine so, considering your tendency to attract the attention of every single unsavoury armed maniac within a mile's radius," Cave noted. The rifle was much bigger than she'd expected, if she was being honest, but the metalwork and wooden furniture made it remarkably comfortable in her hands. "What's the plan?"

"You're aware that most office spaces are laid out usin' drywall and thin pieces of wooden boards, right?" Jack asked, peering through the gap in a doorway as they passed it.

"Yes. They do that for privacy, which I assume is why those men would likely be using it for cover."

"Right. Thing is, what you're wieldin' right now is designed to shatter any form of resistance. Body armour, clothes..._thin cover_. You catchin' my drift?" He caught a glimpse of Cave nodding bravely out of the corner of his eye.

It must have been true, what they said: Give anyone an AK, and they'll be a soldier.

"Why bother with the offices?" Cave asked. "Surely we can just take the emergency staircase up to the top?" Jack shook his head, and pointed upwards.

"'fraid not," he sighed. Cave followed his gesture, and saw what he meant; Despite them being three floors below their destination, the stairs stopped on the floor above. She grimaced, shifting her new rifle in her grip. "Looked over the blueprints on the way to save you," Jack continued, "This service staircase stops on floor one-ninety-seven. Only way up beyond there is to take the main stairs through the finance offices, which then leads us to the boardroom."

Cave frowned. "I came down that way when I was injured," she said flatly. "I'm afraid I won't be much help in giving information, since I was too busy dying to notice enemy positioning."

"Alright, fair enough. Important thing is that you made it out alive, Cave."

The woman smiled slightly, something she knew she hadn't done much of since arriving in this goddess-forsaken tower. Considering that he had survived so many bullet wounds, slash injuries, broken bones, ruptured organs, shattered limbs, and emotional traumas over the past few months, she had to admit: London was probably the single most dangerous – and mouthy – of the group of Earth humans she had encountered, yet also one of the most pleasant...when he tried.

Just as she opened her mouth, there was a sudden darkness that overcame the two. The hum of the energy heading through pipes and the rushing of the air conditioning fans suddenly ground to a halt, leaving the entire emergency shaft in darkness. London quickly grabbed hold of Cave's arm, and pulled her towards him, and very close.

"_Stay close,_" he whispered, "_I'm thinkin' this is the start of an ambush._"

Cave, now very close to the man she had been praising a moment ago, now smelled that very distinctive whiff of rotting flesh. In the low light, she couldn't tell what it was _exactly_, but considering that her shoulder – which had her male companion's arm around it – was slowly feeling more damp, she made the assumption that his arms were still wet with blood from...well, something.

The smell meant it probably wasn't recent either.

For the briefest moment, her momentary elation that he was willing to shield her with his body was replaced with thoughts of some of the horrible things he had done on the way up.

_...didn't he once say he had a chainsaw...?_

Just then, the shaft was suddenly bathed in crimson light, as the emergency power to the stairs was engaged. The air conditioning remained off, but this was no issue to them: The staircase was already quite cold.

Once he was certain nothing had used the powercut as a chance to move into ambush position, Jack gently released Cave, and started looking around, shotgun in hand. "What the Hell was that about...?" he murmured, scratching his chin.

"Were I guessing," Cave began, trying to wipe some of the blood from her shoulders, the red light turning it into a harder job than expected, "The power must have been shut down. Protocols for most major buildings in any nation dictate that emergency lighting must be available in the fire exits."

"Well, we're not runnin' blind, at least," Jack said flatly. "But I would assume in that case, the main offices'll be pretty dark?" Cave thought for a moment as they continued upwards, much slower now. Only two floors remained before they reached 197, so they couldn't be as loud.

"There are windows," she noted, "But from what I remember, the sun was setting. That means we'll likely be working from the light provided by neighbouring buildings; Not much, considering this is one of the tallest buildings in the city."

Jack grimaced. "Damn. Those NVGs got smashed by that armoured rapist, too..."

Cave raised a brow. "NVGs?"

"Night Vision Goggles."

"Ah, of course. I wasn't familiar with the acronym. I used those to stalk you through Leanbox's basilicom that night I choked you out."

Jack sighed as loudly as he could without drawing attention. "Oh, come on, you know I don't like talkin' about that..."

"Really? Why?" Cave smirked, adjusting the small lever on the side of the AK. One of the settings had a smiley face engraved next to it, and it was just before a crosshair marking. Presumably, the crosshair was 'single shot' for accuracy, and the smiley was 'fully automatic'.

She wondered whether the original owner had that put on, or if it was one of London's features.

The man in question seemed rather flustered. "Well, y'know...! I don't...I never really...I don't go unconscious." Cave shrugged, deciding to work with this little tidbit of humiliation that she had. After all, they had a minute or two to get up the stairs.

"Well, I thought you were rather adorable, all limp and sleepy," she smirked, leaning closer to him. To her (not unwelcome) surprise, the large enforcer leaned away uncomfortably, almost worried. "It seems like that post on Neppit in which you were cuddling the Lastation CPU Candidate was right: You really are a big softy."

She couldn't see it in the red lights to confirm her theory, but she figured he was probably blushing at that point.

"Cave, don't be doin' this, now..." he groaned, rounding the banister to head up the next flight of stairs.

"And why not?" the woman asked, once more, "I still think it best that we have each conversation as if it is our last. After all, we very well may die in the next battle. That being said, do you have any feelings of repressed guilt or dark secrets you wish to share? Anything you say that links to your blatant desire for gentle warmth and affection, or your blatant sado-masochist tendencies, is an automatic bonus."

Jack shook his head, sighing. She was trying to tell him something, damn it. He felt like one of those harem protagonists, although maybe he _was _picking it up, but had deemed her motives irrelevant due to the fact there was a much more important thing to deal with, being armed terrorists with spec-ops training.

"I'll show you a fuckin' automatic, if you don't lay off..." he muttered, before drawing his AA-12 and advancing up the final flight of stairs. The dominant smirk disappeared from Cave's face as she followed behind, AK held low. As they passed a large, white-painted '**197**' on the wall, they came upon a metal fire escape door at the top of the stairs. Nearing the door in the crimson light made voices more clear on the other side.

Jack raised a hand as he stood on the right-hand side of the doorway, prompting Cave to halt behind him. After a second of listening to the voices on the other side, he gave another hand gesture to the left hand side of the doorway, Cave darting over and taking up position with the AK.

Despite the door being closed, a glance downwards would yield glimpses of small glimmers of white light beneath the door. Jack looked over to Cave. "_They're using torches,_" he whispered. "_Power must be down out there._" The redhead gave a small nod.

"_Shall we avoid confrontation?_"

Jack tilted his head side to side. "_Not much fun, but probably best. We dunno what they've got out there._"

"_Definitely thin cover. I saw a lot of drywall on the way down._"

"_Good. We staying together?"_

"_Well, I know what you get up to when left alone, so I'll watch our six. What if they spot us?"_

"_Kill everything that moves."_

"_Very well. I can run distraction."_

Jack raised a brow.

"_They've got machine guns, Miss Cave, they'll shred you apart."_

"_I did tell you that I can dodge bullets remarkably well. You'd be surprised how fast I can move."_

"_Just...be careful. Soon as I open this door and we're spotted, we'll be getting shot from __**every**__ direction, and missing the target was not part of any of the training doctrines we were given."_

"_And failure was not one of the things the RRoD trained me to accept. Ready?"_

Jack smirked, and levelled the AA-12 with his shoulder.

"_Ready. Check our six._"

Gently, he reached forward, and slowly turned the door handle to the fire exit that lead into the office. His hand gripped the small knob, and Cave braced to move through as quietly as possible. The confused voices on the other side were slightly less panicked, with the men now apparently realizing it was a simple power failure. For that reason, Jack suspected they'd have lowered their guard somewhat.

Whether they were on alert or not, Cave and Jack were gonna have to be absolutely silent.

As they slipped through the doorway, Jack squinted in the low light, trying to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Cave was already somewhat prepared for it, since she'd been going in and out of dark buildings for many years with the RRoD. That did mean, however, that she was stuck behind London, who was carefully picking his way into the room, crouching slightly so that he was below the office cubicle walls that formed a maze through the entire floor.

All around, there came the mumblings of the surrounding men, with heavy marching paces ringing out through the darkness against the carpeted floor. Jack and Cave did their best to try and be quiet.

As they entered a small 'alley' of cubicle walls, both sides decorated with noticeboards and documents, they made it about halfway through before Jack suddenly snapped out an arm and halted Cave, grabbing her mouth in order to muffle the inevitable reflexive yelp of surprise.

She was about to try and figure out how to ask him what was wrong without breaking silence, but she soon saw.

Up ahead, flashlights were getting brighter against the office wall. They were dead in the middle of the room, now, so they had reached activity center.

Jack glanced back to Cave, who met his gaze, then bobbed her head backwards to suggest they move the other way, back where they came, to find a different route. Jack nodded, then glanced behind her, before quickly shaking his head.

Cave turned.

Flashlights approached behind them.

There were no exits in the dark cubicle alley.

They were now cornered, whether the enemy had planned it, or not.

Jack glanced around, looking for something to hide behind, but nothing could conceal them. No printers, no nothing. A glance at the roof above them showed multiple flashlights all around the room, all in various locations around the maze of office spaces. Sure, they could be seen, but it was damn hard to figure out whether they'd see you, and to keep track of all of them at once...impossible.

He looked back towards the encroaching flashlight behind Cave, then the one behind him. He looked at her.

Her gaze hardened.

Jack paused, nodded, and then silently lay himself down as Cave began standing up, aiming towards the approaching flashlight behind her. A few hushed voices suggested that someone might have heard her, but a few creaky floor panels would be NOTHING compared to what came next.

Cave grit her teeth, and stood up straight, AK rifle in one hand, and drawn scissors in the other. She quietly crossed her arms over for a second, preparing, and then inhaled deeply. She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating as her trio of small drone-like combat robots appeared at her side.

She'd done this too many times to fuck up now.

Her eyes snapped open, and she went onto her tiptoe, pushing her left foot sharply to the side and forcing herself into a spin. The robots began to spin, too, and started using what was in her EXE Drive as a means to get the party started.

The whole room was suddenly illuminated in a brilliant rainbow of lights as within seconds, the drones released a barrage of energy shots, shattering and blasting apart the thin cover surrounding them as the soldiers immediately broke into panic and gunfire. Green, red, gold, blue, pink, and dazzling white made their appearances, suddenly turning the dark office space into a near disco-like Bullet Hell.

Jack was squinting under the blistering heat and light of Cave's attack, and he was certain she'd accidentally kicked him a few dozen times, but he kept the aim on his AA-12 levelled to where the flashlight came from. In the unlikely event that the guy survived the incinerating hell that had suddenly ambushed the dozens of men in the area, he would likely be crawling.

Jack squinted under the light, just being able to make out...

...a tiny red-dot sight peeking around the corner of the melted cubicle wall, aimed at Cave.

That was all he needed; He pulled the trigger on his auto-shotgun, the recoil spring inside absorbing the sudden force and sending forwards a London-style barrage of buckshot, tearing through what remained of the other guy's cover and starting to maul the man behind the MP5. He could be heard screaming, just barely audible over the deafening scream of thousands of lasers firing at the same time and the menacing _**boomph**_ that came in rhythmic sequence from the end of London's AA-12.

He wasn't sure what was going on behind him, he thought as he stopped firing and caught glimpses of 'Karl Adüti' after being turned into wallpaper paste, but he was certain that he could feel the thin panels of the office's carpeted floor vibrate every so often. He couldn't feel footsteps, but he _could_ feel the sudden vibration of heavy objects slamming into the floor: Corpses, and with some of the slams being slightly less hard, or coming in rapid succession, that meant that Cave had cleaved some of them into pieces.

That meant that their gamble paid off: Cave had mentioned that the 'Black Label' move wasn't much of an easy-use attack for her, especially since she had always been told by her bosses to avoid collateral damage at all costs, but the _entire_ floor here was nothing but terrorists, stockbrokers' desks, and shitty computer equipment. The fact that the devastation was a surprise was another bonus; Who the Hell expects to be _melted_ all of a sudden?

As she stopped spinning, Jack wiped his eyes clean of the huge amounts of ash that came from Cave's attack, steadily standing up. All around the room came a mix of screams of agony, orders being practically screeched, and the smell of melted office-ware.

Once London got to his feet, Cave wobbled slightly beside him, prompting him to stick a hand out to aid her balance. He offered a genuine Grin Of Approval™, and patted her on the back. "You good?" he asked quickly, AA-12 raised slightly. Cave's eyes took a second to stop rolling in their sockets, before she shook her head clear and put the AK into hipfire position.

"It's the spinning that gets me, every time," she noted, awkwardly racking the bolt on the rifle. Jack smirked.

"Well, Little Miss Ballerina," he said smartly, "You wanna practice our duet?"

Upon hearing this line, Cave displayed an uncharacteristic – and frankly terrifying – grin.

'Let's dance."

Jack was conflicted on whether he should swallow with concern, be very proud of himself for that rather good Ballerina one-liner, or whether he should be feeling things towards Cave for _working_ with that one-liner.

Nevertheless, he smiled, and looked around the room, standing up to his full height and back-to-upper-back with Cave's slightly smaller frame.

All around them, through the fields of melted office walls and drywall, he could just about see enemies darting around and getting into cover, seeming to avoid all the drywall. There were no lights, per se, but the amount of stuff that was now on fire provided a lovely warm glow that highlighted the silhouettes of the surrounding troops as they made their advances.

Jack nudged Cave.

"Set the switch on the side to the midway-point," he said calmly, glancing at the side of the AA-12 to make sure it was in full-auto. "Then point and shoot."

"Mr. Loondumb, I know how to fight," she replied, the sound of a click resonating to say she'd set the fire selector to fully-automatic, too. "Shall I advance to the other side through my path forwards?"

Jack thought for a brief moment, then understood; She meant whether he wanted her to loop around to the other side of the stairs from the direction she was facing, and for him to do the same.

"Aye, I'll head my way, then," he agreed, eyes following a target that was moving to his right. "Meet you at the foot of the stairs once it's clear. Good luck."

He felt the pressure release from his back as Cave moved away, and he did the same, advancing forward.

Paces, at first, but as soon as he could see where someone had just darted into, he picked up speed, and held the AA-12 waist high.

Up ahead, he could hear the immediate cry.

"CONTACT RIGHT!"

Less than a half second later, and his right ear was assaulted by the sounds of gunfire, cracking and ringing around the office space as he broke into a full speed charge to the other end of the room.

Midway, he slung the AA-12 into his left hand, holding the foregrip with his right and pulling the trigger, once more beginning the process of releasing his own barrage in retaliation. He wasn't sure if he'd hit anybody, or if anybody was going to _be_ where he was running to, but whatever the result was, he was _**severely**_ outgunned: Just the way he liked it, but also carrying a much higher chance of being killed very fast.

When the bullets nearby suddenly became too close for comfort, someone suddenly highlighting him using a flashlight for all to see, he dived to his right, straight behind a desk, munitions shredding the nearby furniture as he rolled behind some form of cover from the shooting.

Recovering, he came face to face with a man in a ballistic face mask, who immediately dropped his M4 and tried to draw his CQB pistol on him. He wasn't fast enough: London lunged forwards, grabbing the man's right wrist with his left hand and darting behind him, twisting the arm so that the inner elbow was facing upwards, the AA-12 disappearing in a violet pulse of light.

Jack moved his knee to the 'arm-wrecker position', but before he could raise it, a loud bang rang out from behind him, and a solid force shunted him forwards, costing him his grip on the man but not before knocking the pistol from his opponent's hand.

Jack yelled out in surprise, stumbling slightly, before regaining his bearings and spinning sharp and fast to get back at them. The man behind who'd shot him was also wearing a ballistic mask, making it hard to gauge what emotions they both had running through their heads, but more concerning was that the shooter _still_ had a pistol.

Bullets zipped past as Jack broke into a short charge, balling his fist and doing his damnedest to shrug off the bullets that the attacker was firing into his face. The other man that had evaded his CQC had lunged to a nearby desk, grabbing a pair of scissors and sweeping forward with his improvised knife.

Jack's adrenaline-and-fury-fuelled reactions were sharper than the office implement; He twisted his abdomen to evade the masked man's hooked swing, deciding to change his plan for a punch into a plan for an elbow.

He followed through, spinning himself back around to firmly slam his right elbow-pad into the back of his opponent's skull, a sickening crack ringing out upon contact as the man screeched in pain.

Jack shifted slightly, grabbing the man's collar and using his victim as a form of brief cover from his other enemy's gunshots; The masked man in his grip spasmed as a series of pistol shots pierced his body armour and torso.

A pistol round flew under the corpse's armpit and slammed into Jack's face.

His head twitched violently as the bullet crumpled against his left cheekbone, the sound of cracking beneath his eye ringing out loudly through his skull, piercing the gunfire as a jet of blood spurted from beneath his vision.

As he shoved the corpse forward, Jack let out...what? A yell? A scream? Some primal roar of rage?

He wasn't even sure, himself.

All he knew was that it hurt, his depth perception was suddenly fucked, and that the corpse had stopped responding to the gunfire.

The other guy was empty.

Jack took his chance, ignoring the injury for now; He took the masked body and threw the corpse towards his opponent, giving him a brief window to lunge forward and pull out the double-barrel. The weapon materialized rapidly in his hands, another purple flash to add to Cave's laser lightshow from across the room, and he swept it up into a firing position.

The stock had snapped off earlier, but hipfiring was what he excelled at. Both steel barrels were levelled at his assailant within a split second, the pistol-waving man only just being in the process of drawing out a fresh magazine for his Glock.

Jack, meanwhile, was loaded.

The moment he pulled the triggers, Jack watched his enemy's head simply burst, sending shards of ballistic fibre and meaty chunks all over the place as the rest of his body went limp.

At the same time, the other corpse hit the floor, with the fresh one slumping on top with the thud of colliding bulk, before they were suddenly pressed together as Jack pressed forwards, dropping two new shells into the double-barrel and snapping it shut as fast as he could.

Bullets from around the area still tearing through the air and the office dividers, he opted to go for covering fire; Ditching the shotgun, he took out the AA-12 and RPD, slinging them beneath his armpits, and strafing back and forth in the darkness between desks, frantic yelling of orders from around the room being difficult to discern over the constant roar of machine-gun fire, and the enemy silhouettes briefly popping up in the rainbow strobes that filled the entire room from Cave's barrages of lasers and lights.

Jack, meanwhile, had just reached the corner of the office, and wasn't able to see the entrance to the stairs. That in mind, he doubted his odds of getting up there until the area was clear of opponents.

He could see some of their faces in the pulsing lights and the bursts of golden muzzleflash: Some of the guys near the back were Non-Commissioned Officers, like Sergeant Fenix. He was currently hunkered down behind a printer, giving him a remarkably high amount of ballistic defense. He was always very good at firing from cover, and was renowned for being pretty goddamn brutal in close combat.

As the 7.62 and the 12 gauge shells bounced from nearby surfaces and pinged against his legs as he ran through the tight quarters of the office, Jack made a mental note to show that COG-headed son of a bitch who was the best at kicking people's arses.

Left and right, he could see results; His enemies were dropping fast and hard, but those that were dodging the bullets were the more skilled guys from training. Naturally, that meant he was going to save 'the best 'til last', in a way.

A very close burst of rifle fire shattered a plasterboard column near his face, and he diverted the RPD to face to his three o'clock in retaliation, shearing away an entire office dividing panel as the man behind jerked violently in response to the penetrating bullets, staggering backwards and finally crashing to the ground through a desk.

A second later, a loud crack to his left slammed into his back, sending Jack stumbling forwards in the darkness as a marksman dropped a shot into his shoulder blade. Gritting his teeth and spinning, Jack opened up with everything he had towards the sniper, spitting out a fresh mouthful of blood as the furniture ahead of his turned into a show of dust and wood splinters.

Jack glanced quickly to his left: Cave was now on the other side of the stairs, the lights pulsing on the other side violently.

Now he could _really _open up.

Ditching the two automatics with a pulse of light and briefly diving to the side to avoid a flurry of tracer rounds, he picked himself up and withdrew the minigun, staying in a crouch.

To his front, the roof showed lots of flashlights pointed in his direction, and also where the enemies were specifically.

Grinning, he made his bullet hose as secure in his grip as possible before pulling the trigger, the familiar winding up sound announcing the weapon's presence, followed by the deafening lightshow of lead that came from the six rotating barrels.

Keeping it low, Jack swept the weapon in an arc across the ground, practically sawing through the bottoms of every divider in his line of fire and shredding apart the legs of anyone who was still around. The enemy gunfire died down as Jack's enemies attempted to seek refuge from the floor-level leg-ripping bullets, those who fell being immediately torn to bloody chunks in a hurricane of hot metal.

Shell casings bounced from the wall nearby, many of them burning small holes in Jack's already tattered clothes, and one of them partially melting the skin on his shredded cheekbone to lodge itself into the flesh, the skin cooling just fast enough to leave the brass casing fused to his face.

If he was being totally honest with himself, Jack was fairly certain he was just about losing his ability to comprehend combat pain. The only thing that hurt the most in his fight with the South African Armournaut was the part where Cave mended his shattered legs.

In this case, he was full of shrapnel and lead, part of his face was gone, he could feel the bottom half of his left shoulder blade moving around as shards of bone beneath his flesh, his armour was _clearly_ destroyed, and his eyes were on fire from the volume of smoke and heat filling the enclosed office space.

And yet, the only thing that stood out as painful was the splitting headache that was arising from the Jericho horns of gunfire that constantly droned in his ears from all sides, coupled with the flashing lights and the body pain.

He could barely comprehend any more advanced strategies than "_**Kill it all**_".

Once more releasing a yell of rage, he hefted the minigun and stood up to full height, beginning to march down the aisle he was in and see who had managed to get cover on a printer or table.

Thankfully, not many people had done that, and all that seemed to remain was stringy pieces of meat that hung limply from the remaining divider panels, and the weakened enemies that had shielded themselves behind the ever-durable office printers.

Finally, Jack released the trigger to get a clearer view.

Contact front.

Five men popped up from behind the two visible printers, two of them practically ignoring the shattered dividers and going in a straight sprint towards him whilst the other three provided covering fire.

Jack wasn't certain they were thinking straight in the midst of all the death.

Then again, he thought as he wound the minigun up again, neither was he.

The two men became little more than pairs of legs with lower spines as soon as the wall of lead hit them, shearing them into two bloody messes and sending the three remaining men into cover.

Jack grinned, and prepared to move forwards, focusing fire on the left printer.

Contact front.

The printer to his right suddenly had a flash to the side of it accompanied by another loud 'crack', one which introduces a bullet that smashed right into Jack's chest. He yelled in pain, stumbling and releasing the trigger, which gave his enemies just enough time to pop out and shoot at him over the now very much open office space.

"Shite!" Jack shouted, looking around for cover as the rifle fire began again.

To his right, a solid steel filing cabinet.

That would do.

He turned to his left, sprinted the six meters, and dived for three, sending him crashing into a pile of wood and shredded corpses, bullets pinging from his newfound metal cover.

He wished he had a healthbar.

A bullet tore through the metal and zipped over his head.

He wished he had found better cover.

Across the room, he heard a man yell "_**ONE IN THE PIPE!**_", followed by some furniture near him exploding violently.

He wished he had armour, he wished he had more STR boosters, he wished-

His phone buzzed in his torn pocket.

"THIS THING WAS DESTROYED!" he yelled, grabbing it and fumbling to answer. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?!"

"_Heyyy, Jack, what're you doing right now?_" came Chaz's chirpy tone.

"GETTIN' SHOT AT WHILST LYIN' DOWN!" came Jack's loud and immediate response. "WHY DOES IT MATTER?!"

"_Good,_" Chaz replied. "_Don't stand up for the next ten seconds."_

Jack raised a frantic brow as the call cut off.

Why couldn't he –

Oh, shit.

Amongst the gunfire, he could hear the distant sound of two jet engines getting louder.

It was coming from the enemy's direction.

He just hoped that Cave wasn't in the line of fire.

He had barely any time to process more as nearly the entire floor suddenly detonated sequentially, 20mm rounds blasting apart countless objects and filling the room with fire, heat, and ash.

London shoved his face into the floor and shielded his head with his forearms, curling up slightly as the area nearby burst into violent shaking and explosions.

It took a few seconds for the shards of wood to stop hitting him on the head.

It took him _another_ second for his ears to stop ringing.

The high pitched whine disappeared just in time for him to hear and feel the building shake, Chaz's jet flying past. A moment later, he heard a distant sound that universally scared the fuck out of a lot of terrorists and Soviet tank crews.

_**Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt...**_

Breathing heavily, London took a few seconds to pick himself up, dusting pieces of melted filing cabinet away from the minigun and lifting its reassuring weight once more. Then, he looked around the room.

Though there was a lot of dust, he couldn't see the printers anymore. All he could see in their place were blasted out husks, with charred, bloody skeletons behind it, clutching melted Kalashnikovs and a broken Steyr Scout.

Broken being a loose word to describe the fact that the scope was lodged through the skull of one of the corpses.

London took a moment to assess this, and exhaled slowly.

The gunfire and light show across the room had died down; All he heard for a moment was a man crying and begging, before the sound of a single rifle shot silenced it all, ringing out around the room and leaving the only remaining noises as the wind rushing through a hundred smashed windows, and the sound of Chaz circling the building in the Warthog.

"Well, Miss Cave's won, then..." he mused, scratching what remained of his stubble that hadn't been replaced by small shrapnel.

Steadily, he made his way across the room towards the entrance to the staircase, minigun still in hand and the barrels still sizzling. His hand wafted in front of his face to get the settling dust from it, and he occasionally coughed, his breathing laborious and filled with puffs of smoke.

Cave had to be around here somewhere.

As he reached the bottom of the staircase that finally lead up to the last floor – and last room - in the entire tower, Jack looked down at his feet.

The bullet-riddled corpse of Corporal Ahrmah – someone Jack remembered as being very by-the-book in terms of his soldiering – lay in a shredded mess next to Jack's blood soaked and ruined boots. Hardly fazed by the gore, Jack crouched down to inspect the body. The low light made it hard to see, but...

...yeah, he had a radio.

Jack's had been broken earlier in the fight with the Armournaut, so he might as well get a replacement. Wrenching it from the shoulder mount of what remained of Ahrmah's tactical vest, he stood up and reached into his own torn and bloodied shirt pocket, fishing around for the radio frequencies he kept on a small piece of paper.

Upon finding it, he walked over to a nearby edge of the building, turning the paper to face the city lights that streamed in from below, before squinting at it.

His bullet-shattered cheek screamed at him to stop squinting.

Jack ignored it.

Reading off the list, he also adjusted the radio's frequency dial. "Oh...nine...one...seven...five...six."

For a brief moment, the radio picked up nothing but static, before Jack finally decided to speak.

"Gents, if any of you can hear me, it's London," he said flatly, before releasing the button.

Silence for a moment.

Then, one by one, the voices of Chaz, Luke, James, and Josh came over the radio.

"_FUCK, MATE! YOU'RE ALIVE!_" Luke cheered.

"_**What the Hell happened up there just now?!**_" Josh asked frantically. "_**We just heard a load of gunfire, and then Chaz strafed the building with the twenty mil!**_"

"Just wiped out most of Kashuba's men," Jack said calmly, wiping some of the blood from his cheek. "Got Miss Cave with me. Kashuba's on the floor above. Any word from the CPUs?"

"**They're fine. I'll put them on the line, for you,**" James cut in, before a slight breeze was heard on the radio. Quietly, there came an '_it's London'_ followed by several '_Oh Goddesses!_'. The radio suddenly made a series of crackles as someone wrenched it from James' hand.

"_**MR. LOONDUMB?!**_" Noire screamed. Jack winced, moving the radio away from his ear.

"That'd be me," he retorted calmly. "You ladies doin' alright?"

"_**Well, we all just got kidnapped, had our Shares absorbed by that dragon-thing, and tied onto its' arm, but yeah, sure, we're all absolutely fine!**_" came her snarky response. "_**And I take it your irresponsible backside has been having a real tough time going up that simple little-**_"

"Oh, shut up, and listen here, you hoity bitch." London snapped. The line went silent. "I'm up here with just Miss Cave, and I just had my arse kicked by some jacked-up rapist in power armour, then I had to wipe out an entire office space full of goons. The man at the top has hostages, and he can kill them any time he wants. I don't know if he's got some kind of back-up plan, whether he has more men, or what he's armed with. I've been filled with bullets and shrapnel, I've got plenty of broken bones, my cheek's ripped, I can't see out of my left eye, my clothes are practically in fuckin' pieces, and I'm runnin' on little more than the leftovers of four STR boosters I had a couple of hours ago, and pure rage." He hesitated. "Then you come here and whine that I'm irresponsible. Miss Cave and I are savin' all four of your countries from goin' through what Earth went through. This arsehole's gonna flood the economy with credits to make everythin' worthless. Tell the Oracles to start keepin' an eye on unusual stock market activity."

"**...u-um...s-sure. Sorry for the sarcasm...kind of an immediate thing that I do...**" Noire muttered finally. "**You want our help up there?**"

"Too risky," Jack said calmly. "He'll kill the hostages if he senses anything wrong. Speakin' of which, where's that rocket launcher bloke?"

"_**Who?**_" Luke asked, prompting Jack to roll his eyes.

"Is Miss IF there?" he groaned. At this point, the radio suddenly made more noise as presumably someone grabbed it and ran off with it.

Jack turned and looked around.

He could see Cave on the other end of the room, wrenching guns from corpse hands. The bodies were all heavily charred and burned.

He mentally reminded himself to be really nice to Cave when that time of the month rolled around.

Just then, the radio spoke again, this time in the chirpy tone of Neptune. "_Heyyyy, Iffy!~"_ sang the teenage immortal. "_It's your boyfriend on the phone!_"

Another pause, where Jack could make out a muffled '_But I don't have a boyfriend?_', followed by a '_Ohmigosh, is it Mr. Loondumb?!_'.

Jack frowned, and chuckled.

Curses, friendzoned again.

"_Mr Loondumb?!" _Miss IF yelled_. "You're still alive?! Thank GODDESS!_"

"You and I both know it takes a Hell of a lot more than _dyin'_ to stop me," he said flatly. "I've got Miss Cave with me, so I'm not alone up here, either. What happened to our RPG-waving friendo?"

"_Mr. Doe?_" she asked.

"Aye."

"_The police just took him to the station. He's gonna be interrogated by four different secret agencies, then debriefed."_

Jack grimaced. "Shite. No recon on the top floor, then."

"_Nope, none. Also, the CPUs are OK._"

"I know, I just spoke to them. Good job on savin' them. I owe you one."

"_Oh, you owe me one, huh?_"

Jack suddenly regretted his choice of words.

"Aw, shit..." he muttered.

"_Listen, Lovebun, you survive all this, you'll probably be remembered as __**above**__ legendary_," IF cut in again. Jack heard a short rustling, and a 'be-eeep' close to the radio. "_Buuut in case you don't, is there anything you wanna...y'know, get off your chest? Personal secrets, bank details, things you wish you'd said to people before your unfortunate demise, last words, anything like that?"_

Jack rolled his eyes. "Miss IF, what do you want from me?"

"_Nothing particular,_" she whistled. "_But, ah, any confessions, say them loudly, so that my...uh, __**ears**__ can pick them up clearly._"

Jack grimaced.

"Look, whatever the collective goal of you girls is, I ain't admittin' to nothin' that would be good blackmail material if I survive all this. Cave wanted it, you want it..."

"_I'd say the CPUs probably want it as well._"

"They ain't gettin' it, either. Whatever. Anyway, this might well be the last time we speak." He hesitated. "Sorry about the Deagle thing. I should've made it up to you earlier, somehow."

He practically felt IF's face harden. "_We don't talk about the Deagle thing. You wanna make it up to me?_"

Jack glanced over to Cave, who was currently trying on one of the plate carriers that hadn't been incinerated by her attacks. "Well, sure," he replied, scratching his head. "And how would I be doin' that?"

"_First of all, survive. Second, you're taking all of us girls out to dinner and giving us the answers we want._"

"Well, what questions do you want answerin'?" he sighed. "If it's about the arseholes doin' this, I'll be happy to-"

"_Why are you so scared of girls?_"

"Oh, kiss my dick, you cheeky beggar," he groaned loudly.

Jack let go of the radio button, and put it in his pocket.

As he watched Cave trying to tighten the lower half of a black armour vest so that it could accommodate her..._assets_...he considered something that he hadn't considered throughout the entire tower ascent.

What if Kashuba..._**won**_?

He had good odds of beating the shit out of that Commie fuck. There was no doubt he'd kick his shit in.

But the plan that Doe mentioned...maybe he'd already run that through. Maybe by the time Jack reached him, Kashuba had somehow managed to flood the entire economy and fuck it all up irreversibly.

In all honesty, now that he thought about it...

...Jack didn't care.

The CPUs could deal with the societal fallout.

Odds were, he wasn't gonna survive very long after this was all over. Hell, he'd probably permanently die soon after putting his shoe through Kashuba's jaw.

But, of course, that didn't matter to him at this point. The girls would be really upset, sure, but he would die a hero's death. Maybe get a statue, or something.

And hey, if he did die, odds were that he could hang out with those guys in the afterlife for a while.

He narrowed his eyes at the top of the stairs, and waited for Cave to finish gearing up, keeping watch for any movement from above.

Whatever happened between him and his former commander was a long time coming.

"One-hundred-and-twenty-seven, to one," he snarled. "Let's see which number in my K/D you increase, you Russian motherfucker."


End file.
